Harry Potter and the Elements of the Phoenix
by Three Seers
Summary: 5th year: Voldemort is definitely back. In order to save both Wizard and Muggle worlds, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and yes, Draco, and a haughty new girl, must join forces and call upon an ancient power. Eventually HG, RHr, D... but not yet!
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
The sky was streaked with red banners and golden clouds, and already had the purplish tone that announces the arrival of night. A fresh wind blew from the sea toward the land, carrying the smells of the ocean as a replacement for the lasting odor from the laurel trees nearby. The metal rooster, perched on the top of a lovely neighboring house, turned on its single foot in response to the breeze's touch. The green windows and the red roof stood out amongst the other gray houses surrounding this one.  
  
Near the back door of the house, two tanned arms emerged from either side of a long chair made of white plastic. They seemed to belong to a young girl, as did the leg that swung languorously in the dry grass. A few minutes later, the window facing the long chair opened. A woman emerged, probably in her mid forties, noticeable enough to attract glances wherever she went. She had long, black hair that fell on her shoulder in a wild braid. She had dark eyes, her face was the color of well-baked bread, and her nose had the flat, rounded shape that indicated an African ancestry.  
  
"Come to dinner, the salad is ready," she said in a low voice.  
  
"Maman, why do you have to speak to me in English? I still have one month before I meet my pen pal!" the girl reading in the chair answered.  
  
"I already told you, chérie, you have to get used to it. Come on, hurry up," the woman replied with a smile.  
  
The young girl got up from the chair, dropping a voluminous book on the ground. As she headed toward the house slowly, in a feline and graceful way, the lustrous cascade of her black hair shivered.  
  
Suddenly, the woman at the window seemed to catch a glimpse of something; her eyes narrowed and her lips twitched.  
  
"Jawhara, rentre dans la maison, immédiatement." (Jawhara, come into the house, immediately.)  
  
The girl didn't seem to question her mother's tense tone. She sprinted to the door and disappeared inside the house. In a loud bang, the great doors of the garden opened. A dozen hooded figures, dressed in black, surrounded the house silently. From their black robes billowing in the wind, they could be easily identified as Death Eaters. They didn't wait a second: a tall man pointed his wand toward the door, blowing it up, while the others smashed the windows using identical means. They entered the house hurriedly.  
  
The wind rose, loud and powerful, and very soon a storm assembled above the garden. Dark clouds began swirling in a menacing ring while the wind penetrated the house, crying and ravaging everything as it passed. A furious scream was heard, shortly followed by an imprecation.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
The green light shot out from doors and windows alike; a ray even flew up from the chimney. Every stone seemed to yell in pain, every flower and grass blade and wall suffered from a deadly blow. The Death Eaters stormed out from the house, bracing themselves for the tempest that barely left them standing. Directing their wands toward the house, they shouted, "Detructi petrum". A darkish red fire lit, and quickly became a gigantic pyre, attacking bricks as easily as if they were dry wood. The house collapsed, and the Death Eaters promptly Disapparated, leaving a burning ruin illuminated by a dying sun. 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Letters  
  
"A friendship can weather most things and thrive in thin soil; but it needs  
  
a little mulch of letters [...] every so often - just to save it  
  
from drying out completely."  
  
-Pam Brown  
  
Harry felt the excruciating pain on his forehead, he felt the horrible burn and death's icy hold at the same time, and he woke up. Sweat drenched his thin sheets and soaked his jet-black hair. Hot tears mingled with the cold sweat on his face. He could feel every salty droplet, each one as painful as his dreams and not helping the least against the bitterness in his thoughts.  
  
Nightmares. Again. These horrible dreams. He hated sleeping: it was like reliving his worst fears over and over again. They crept over his shut eyes like Dementors, drowning him with memories and flashes of Voldemort's actions. He would often wake up yelling and crying in the night. The Dursleys never heard his screams: they were used to noise at night. Vernon and Dudley's snores were probably the loudest in the county. Harry was alone, utterly alone.  
  
He did receive letters from his friends. Hermione, when she wasn't worrying about his scar hurting, or not being named prefect, would whine about Ron not writing to her. Ron's letters, on the other hand, bitterly complained about Hermione's "passionate" vacation with Viktor Krum. Ron probably hadn't paid attention to her letters well enough, since she clearly stated that her relationship with Victor was purely platonic. In fact, Hermione kept complaining about this redhead's incapacity to understand that she was not in love with Viktor. Although Harry believed that Hermione had flirted with Viktor only to make Ron jealous, he had his mind on other things right this minute.  
  
Sirius had only sent him two letters so far. Harry supposed his godfather was getting closer to Hogwarts, as Hedwig took less time than before to deliver his letters. Padfoot's letters were extremely mysterious, since he had to remain hidden, but he was too concerned by what the scar hurting could actually mean. Harry didn't have any problem figuring that out... Hagrid didn't have time for writing letters, as he probably was on his mission with the giants. As for Dumbledore... well, the Headmaster had told him that should Harry have any more nightmares, or feel his scar burning, he would have to contact him immediately. However, Harry told himself that Professor Dumbledore probably had better things to do than to listen to one of his students complain about a little pain... Even though it wasn't just a little. Harry had never asked for that scar, or for his parents to be killed. He just wanted to be normal. The only problem was, Harry just wasn't a normal boy.  
  
Right now, though, all he wanted was comfort, and no one was there to help him. He was alone with his constant pangs of guilt. Harry slowly got up, his knees trembling from the fear and pain his nightmares triggered, and leaned on the windowsill. The night was cool and starry; the creamy moon looked down on him and wrapped him in a glowing, appeasing shimmer. Full moon would be reached in a couple of days and Harry thought remorsefully about Moony, better known as Remus Lupin.  
  
But even thinking about Remus was too painful: it reminded him of the Marauders, especially his dad, and Peter's treason. Harry's sequence of thoughts always drifted back to Cedric and his lifeless gray eyes, to Cho and her mourning face. Because Harry had decided to play heroic and generous, by accepting to share the cup with Cedric, he had practically killed him with his own hands. What a wonderful Gryffindor he was, sending his friends to their death, and causing pain to the girl he loved. He was so miserable; everything was his fault: his parents dying, Cedric dying, Ginny being trapped in the chamber of secrets, even the hollow looks Malfoy bore felt like they were his fault. And maybe they were...  
  
Harry sighed heavily. He felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders--and actually, he did. The whole world had its eyes riveted upon his every move: everyone was counting on him. But no one was there for him. Harry curled up in his bed, hoping he could get some dreamless sleep; instead dry sobs racked his body. He desperately wanted his mum, any mum for that matter. He missed Molly Weasley, the only mother he could remember. Tears once more flooded his face and soon enough he was crying himself to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
He shot up again, his mind still filled with the pictures of another nightmare. Checking his watch, Harry realized that he had slept not more than half an hour before this second dream had woken him up. Green light, red eyes and evil cackle. The mere thought of it was draining him, and he wished he could finally escape the evil clutches of his horrid nightmare. What is death, he thought, if not eternal sleep? Eternal, peaceful, nightmare-free sleep... Harry shook himself.  
  
I must not think like that, he told himself, repeating it over and over like a mantra. I've got a family, the Weasleys, and friends at Hogwarts. I am the Boy who Lived, he thought bitterly, or so they say.  
  
Yet he knew people who said that agreed with him on one point: I must not let everybody down. I must survive even when there seems no hope is left, or the fight is lost before it has even started. He had to write about his dreams to make them go away; write to someone who could understand him and reassure him. Sirius had always been his first choice for cases like this. However, this time, it wasn't possible. The risk was too high. He had to make sure that Voldemort could not find out about his dreams, otherwise the consequences would be dire. Ron and Hermione were too preoccupied with each other, and he didn't want to worry them too much.  
  
Then he thought of Ginny. Somehow, writing to Ginny just felt... right. Surely she would understand; Harry supposed she had suffered from similar nightmares after her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets in her first year. She wouldn't be overly protective like Hermione, or anxious like Ron. She would just be there for him. Or, at least, he hoped so. Harry turned his lamp on. His eyes hurting from the suddenly bright light, he scrambled for a piece of parchment and a quill. He finally began to write:  
  
"Dear Ginny, How is your summer so far? I hope you are doing quite well. The Dursleys are giving me the silent treatment, but I guess that's an improvement on the screaming treatment. I've been having a lot of dreams, or rather... nightmares about Voldemort and Cedric lately. However, I just had a dream that was slightly different. It was about a woman I don't know, and her daughter I think, being attacked by Death Eaters. There was a blinding green light, and I woke up. Do you think this could have actually happened? "  
  
Harry thought about what to write, and decided that he shouldn't talk about his dreams too much, otherwise Ginny might worry as well. Instead, he wrote:  
  
"On a lighter note, I don't know if you are aware of the situation between Ron and Hermione. Ron is insanely jealous of Viktor, and Hermione is wondering whether he will ever notice that she likes him more than Viktor. Seeing as you're Hermione's friend and Ron's sister, maybe you could talk (or knock) some sense into them. I love them dearly, but they're driving me crazy!"  
  
He was about to end with "Love, Harry" but he stopped short - maybe Ginny would think he was teasing her about the crush she had on him. Did she still have a crush on him? In any case, he preferred to simply sign "Harry".  
  
The Dursleys had agreed to let Hedwig out of her cage whenever she wanted, as they were afraid of "that murderer godfather of yours". She had just come back from hunting, dropping a little mouse on his desk as a token of affection. How nice of you, Hedwig, Harry thought, tying the letter to his owl's leg, who was feeling quite content and seemed rather proud of herself. He let her fly away in the night and then went back to his bed. His last thought, before falling asleep once more, was that Hedwig represented the only being in this house who wasn't disgusted or scared to stand within two hundred feet of him.  
  
* * *  
  
Two hours later, at the crack of dawn, Harry was woken by a mad tapping at his window. Glancing over, he saw a shape outside that could only be Pigwidgeon, Ron's tiny owl; he kept knocking on the window with his beak. Harry dragged himself to the window to open it and caught the overexcited owl - thanks to his Seeker reflexes - before the bird fluttered in his room, bouncing from wall to wall like a Snitch gone awry. The feathery Snitch had even brought two letters, which was a personal record for this ridiculously small bird.  
  
Harry smiled as he recognized Ron's untidy scrawl on the first letter and Ginny's neat little cursive on the second. He decided to open Ginny's letter first, just realizing that he must have woken her up with his letter. Harry Potter, the prat who wakes girls up at ungodly hours to tell them about a little bit of pain, he thought with remorse. Just then, Hedwig flew by the open window, a small parchment in her beak:  
  
"Dear Harry, sorry I kept Hedwig and sent you Ron's owl instead, but she really was a mess when she arrived at The Burrow. I think she got caught up in a storm coming from France, and I cleaned her up so your uncle wouldn't be angry with you. I don't mean to keep you waiting --I saw that Ron and Ginny sent you some letters -- so I'll leave you to your reading. I do hope you can come to The Burrow during summer. Tell the kids whether you can come or not. Affectionately, Molly."  
  
Harry shot Hedwig a commiserative look, but was too curious about Ginny's letter and decided he'd take care of the owl later. Opening the envelope, he found a big piece of parchment with a drawing of a serpent and a note that said:  
  
"Harry, I'm giving this letter to Ron for him to send. Since I know my brother like the back of my hand, I assume he'll try to read it as soon as possible. RON, STOP READING!!!! This is why I bewitched the parchment included in this envelope so that it reveals its contents only if you say "diary" (which is the first word I could think of upon seeing the snake) in Parseltongue (and only in Parseltongue, so Ron, DON'T EVEN TRY!!!!) Don't worry; I didn't get a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office because my parents use magic constantly. I think that they can only detect it if you live with Muggles (yes, Ron told me about Dobby and the pudding). When you're done reading, say "clear" (still in Parseltongue) and send it back to me, because I will be able to use it again. Ah, the things I have to do to keep my nosey brothers OUT OF MY PRIVATE LIFE (RON, THIS MEANS YOU!!!!) Ginny"  
  
Harry was amazed at her elaborate scheme and had to smile. Wow, she really has changed... Wait a minute, this is my friend's sister I'm talking about here! So? So! What would Ron think if he knew what I was thinking? Who cares? I think I'll stop talking to myself now.  
  
"Diary," he said, barely aware that he was actually hissing. Staring at the parchment, Harry couldn't register any change for some seconds. Then the reptile began to shimmer, and its shades moved from side to side as the snake's body trembled. In a quick and silent motion, the reptile then moved across the page, over and over, tracing Ginny's words with its tail with surprising rapidity.  
  
"Dear Harry, Now that I got rid of my stupid brother (even though I know he's your friend, you have to agree that he can be quite annoying). I know you're not going to be happy about me telling you this, but I really think you should write to Dumbledore. Hermione told me that you often have dreams, thanks to your scar that links you to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And if this is the case, which it is more than likely to be, think about how much you'll help with the fight against Voldemort by simply writing to Dumbledore, detailing your dream (that way he could maybe identify the victims?). If you don't write to him, not only will you be withholding crucial information that will help the Light side (and try to live with your conscience knowing that), but I'll also hex you into next week! (I know I'm sounding a bit harsh, but you can be quite stubborn, not unlike a certain brother of mine... All my brothers, in fact...)  
  
While on the subject of my brother Ron, you are absolutely right: he is incredibly jealous. He used to get owls from Hermione quite often, which made him more and more irked every day, until they stopped coming altogether. Hermione wrote to me, of course, and said that it was no use, she couldn't make him see sense, but she was hoping that you and I could. Somehow, having "Ron" and "sense" in the same sentence is very disturbing. He's so thick; he wouldn't notice love if it hit him in the face and danced around him naked (which Hermione probably will... hit him in the face, I mean...).  
  
Anyway, he can make himself useful sometimes. I've managed to control his Quidditch-mania by making him tutor me. Chaser is really my favorite position (yes, ok, the real reason is that I wanted to stand out and since Fred and George are Beaters, Charlie was a Seeker, and Ron's preferred position is Keeper, I didn't have much choice...). I hope you can come soon so that we can have someone to challenge Charlie! (we haven't used the Snitch all summer, as that wouldn't be really fair to the team that doesn't have Charlie on it). You can ask Dumbledore in your letter!  
  
Oh great, Ron's hysterical owl just came in. I liked Pig at first, but he's really getting on my nerves now. I hope I can get an owl of my own someday soon.  
  
Ginny  
  
PS: By the way, Ron says you can keep Pig for a few days until you reply, since he will probably be too winded by his "humongous" delivery to do anything but sleep for a couple of days."  
  
Chuckling, Harry turned to see Pig sleeping next to Hedwig. Ginny really is a nice girl. He tried to picture her playing Quidditch with Ron tutoring her, but somehow all he saw in his mind's eye was the wind playing with her long, silky hair, and the sun making her warm brown eyes sparkle. He shook his head and tried to focus on the letter once again. Apparently she hadn't known what closing statement to use either, he mused, a smile drawing on his lips. He couldn't concentrate once more, and his eyes glazed over as he found himself in another daydream... He could picture Ginny on her broomstick once again, her golden skin, adorable freckles and gracious movements, her beautiful suntanned skin, glowing like copper over the grass and in the bluish sky...  
  
SNAP OUT OF IT!  
  
He made a determined effort to stop his reverie and think about more. er. neutral things. Well, I suppose I should write to Dumbledore then. He took out a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote:  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, I really don't mean to annoy you, and I can guess that this summer must have been very hard to deal with, especially since Voldemort's return. However, you told me that I should warn you if my scar hurt, or anything similar. Well, I just had a dream: I saw a house being destroyed by Death Eaters. I didn't see what happened to the woman and girl inside (the woman had dark eyes, dark hair, and looked like she might have African origins; and the girl had long dark hair). I don't know if they were Muggles or witches, but I really hope all this is just a dream and that nothing happened. But my scar hurt horribly when I woke up; it was just like if my head was going to explode any second, and I could feel Voldemort's presence somewhere, probably just inside my head. As much as I would like to think that this was just a nightmare, I have a nagging feeling that this actually happened. I hope you will be able to find out what happened to the girl and the woman, and if they are all right. If I can help in any way, let me know. I would also like to ask you if it would be possible for me to go to The Burrow?  
  
Thank you very much for your patience, Harry"  
  
He decided to write a letter to Sirius as well, because otherwise, his godfather would probably find out anyway, and get hacked off at Harry for not telling him. In the letter, Harry told him about his scar and asked him how he was doing (and how his mission was going, just in case Sirius decided to share some information with him, as unlikely as that sounded). He tried to keep it short, since he figured that his godfather did not have much time to spare, because he was on an important mission for Dumbledore.  
  
As Harry finished the letter, he suddenly remembered that Ron's letter remained unopened on his desk. Wow, the last time I got so many letters, it was because of that Rita Skeeter article on Hermione . That hadn't been very pleasant for her, though . . . What had Ginny thought at that time? Did she hate Hermione as Mrs. Weasley did? Or did she know it was all lies intended to destroy Hermione's reputation? She probably didn't believe a word of it, as Hermione was her best friend. Why is it that I can't stop thinking about Ginny? She didn't occupy my mind so much in the past... What happened? He supposed his hormones had gone a bit ...er, on overload during the summer.  
  
Besides, he could tell from Ginny's letters that she had matured a lot. She no longer was the tiny eleven-year-old star-struck girl who blushed furiously and ran out of the room every time she saw her crush, the great Harry Potter. He liked her in a friendly way, or even as a sister, right? Her letter was nice and caring in a friendly way, but Harry doubted that her feelings for him went beyond that now. Although they used to. . . He read Ron's letter, which was mostly about Hermione and "bloody Krum".  
  
"I see I'm not the only one whose hormones have gone a bit mad." Harry then realized that he had said this out loud, and stood perfectly still, dreading to hear his uncle's voice booming about too much noise when they were trying to sleep. Instead, he heard noise in the kitchen and noticed that it must indeed be the time when his aunt and uncle would be taking their breakfast. Harry sent Hedwig out, attaching the letters to Dumbledore and Sirius to her leg. As he headed down the stairs to the kitchen, he could picture Ginny in his mind, and decided that his day was turning out to be quite nice after all. How very wrong he was.  
  
* * *  
  
"BOY! GET YOUR BLOODY ARSE DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!" Uncle Vernon's heavy voice boomed and echoed across the small house on Privet Drive. The heavy thudding and trembling of the house informed Harry that the bellows of his Uncle had also awakened the fat piglet known as Dudley Dursley, and that the whale-sized boy was squeezing himself through his door to get down to the kitchen. Soon enough, the house shook violently to the rhythm of the fat boy's scurrying down the stairs.  
  
"POTTER! I SAID NOW!!"  
  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."  
  
With satisfaction, Harry registered that his throat issued these words resoundingly and without skipping. His voice had finished breaking. It was now deep and warm; it was a man's voice. He wondered when the change had occurred and figured he had been too absorbed by Cedric's death to notice that his body was changing. Harry was now the tallest of the Dursley household. Dudley, Vernon, and even the tall bony Petunia were under his eye level.  
  
How convenient, he thought. Harry skipped the last steps absentmindedly and entered the kitchen.  
  
Vernon immediately began his litany, "This summer, your aunt and I have compiled a list of chores that you are to accomplish if you want to go back to that bloody school of yours. You will be waxing the car, de-weeding the lawn, repotting your Aunt's flowers, tidying up the garage, and creating a cement alley across the garden. We'll let you know about the rest later. Is that understood?"  
  
"Will I get paid?" Harry ventured.  
  
He wasn't going to take the Dursley abuse this summer. It would have to change.  
  
At this, Aunt Petunia's shrill banshee-like voice howled, "I MOST CERTAINLY THINK NOT! We should have left you on our doorstep fourteen years ago! But no! We had the decency to feed you, to put clothes on your ungrateful back, to give you a roof to live under, and even though you turned out to be a no good hooligan we kept you! AND NOW YOU WANT US TO PAY YOU!"  
  
The wheels in Harry's head started turning and a smile tugged on his lips.  
  
"Okay," he said. The Dursleys stared at him incredulously. Uncle Vernon's expression turned into a nasty smile.  
  
But Harry continued, "Yeah okay, give me a minute to go tell my Godfather, Sirius Black in case you forgot, about my projects for this summer. You know how he likes to be informed."  
  
Aunt Petunia blanched and fell into a nearby chair. "Vernon!" she pleaded.  
  
He seemed to be pondering over the threats in that big ugly head of his. He glanced furtively at Dudley's large figure, sitting at the table, stuffing his face without registering the scene going on around him. "How much do you want?" he croaked.  
  
"Two pounds a day and decent meals," Harry declared.  
  
Uncle Vernon sputtered. "Are you out of your mind? Two pounds a day, for those ruddy chores! Who do you think you are!?"  
  
A faint smirk tugged on the corners of Harry's lips. "A fifteen year old wizard with interesting connections."  
  
"One pound a day, boy, not a penny more. Now get to work," Vernon conceded, choking and becoming all red, whether from anger or fear.  
  
With those words, Petunia and Vernon turned away and left. "Deal." Harry grinned devilishly, treasuring his victory, even if it was a small one. The smile was wiped off his face when he cast a look upon the garden. Surely Hagrid's hair would be easier to tame than this mess.  
  
"Yeah well, they fell a little behind," cackled Dudley.  
  
"So did you," said Harry "On your diet, I mean."  
  
A "little behind" was euphemism for his cousin's enormous behind and body. Dudley had doubled over the school year. He had accumulated so much fat that it had become a task to squeeze between the doorframes. Petunia would always complain that they made the doors too small in houses. She was still oblivious to the fact that she had made Dudley too fat for the house.  
  
"Oh shut up you abnormal freak! I was wondering, what does a four-eyed abnormality do after school? You know besides joining a circus, or getting blown up with his family," commented Dudley.  
  
He had barely time to finish his sentence before all the windowpanes shattered in a strident noise.  
  
Bloody hell! The Dursleys are going to kill me!  
  
The overweight boy scurried back upstairs. "MUMMY! He's done it again!" Dudley's face was white with fear.  
  
But then again, so was Harry's. He knelt down beside the broken glass.  
  
NO! Why the hell does this always happen to me? He was hoping with all his might that the windows would somehow fix themselves. When he opened his eyes, the glass pieces were flying across the room, miraculously getting back into place like a huge puzzle. The glass melted back together like a healing wound, and the windowpanes ended up unmarked. Expecting an owl to come in with a howler from the Ministry any minute, Harry prepared for the worst.  
  
However, when Uncle Vernon came thumping to the veranda instead, Harry decided that people at the Ministry were probably too preoccupied denying Voldemort's return and didn't care about his wandless magic.  
  
"What's going on? Dudley said something about you being abnormal again and breaking the windows."  
  
"Nothing, Uncle Vernon. The windows are just fine. If Dudley is seeing things, I suggest you keep him out of the sun," Harry replied in an innocent tone.  
  
"Well," grumbled the Dursley patriarch, "get to work! I'm not paying you to watch the weeds grow."  
  
Harry exhaled deeply. This was going to be a very long summer. He got on his knees once more and started pulling the dandelions out with passion.  
  
He had been working for over three hours and ripped off his oversized inconvenient shirt. His body was aching all over, arms and legs covered in dirt. Dudley had even had the immense pleasure of smothering Harry's face with mud. Harry didn't need that, because he was already dripping with sweat, and the mud only made him look more disgusting. As long as it stayed on the ground, though, the soil was cool and comforting. The smell of grass reminded him of the Hogwarts Quidditch field; that wasn't unpleasant at all. The whole Dursley garden appeared free of weeds in a matter of hours.  
  
This isn't so bad, thought Harry, looking proudly at his work. However, when he got up to cut the grass, his sore body told him how wrong he was. Once he was done with the manicure of the lawn, he figured he could take the rest of the day off, so he decided he would spend it on the freshly cut lawn. He laid down in the sun and drifted off into a well deserved slumber, no nightmares involved. When he woke up, the sun had set behind the tall trees and an ochre color invaded the sky. He nonchalantly made his way back to the kitchen.  
  
Aunt Petunia had disposed newspaper on the floor so that he wouldn't get the pampered house dirty. He decided to take a shower before dinner. The frugal sandwich he had munched down a couple hours ago felt like an eternity away. Never had a shower felt this good. It washed away all his troubles, worries, and thoughts. The soreness of his muscles started to fade quickly under the hot stream. He thought once more that he could get used to this routine.  
  
Sure enough, he did. In about a week, the garden was perfectly manicured and the grass shown with a vibrant, youthful green. But most importantly, Harry had seven pounds in his pocket, as well as some new muscles and a shy sunburn. It would soon enough turn into a nice tan, as if to testify of his labor.  
  
* * *  
  
A few days after Vernon gave him his chore list, Hedwig flew in from the window, clutching three letters. Harry scanned the handwriting on the envelopes. Speak of the devil! Not only had Sirius replied, but Harry had received a letter from Dumbledore as well. They must not be very far, since I sent my letters to them two days ago. He opened Dumbledore's letter first, anxious to see if he would be able to go to The Burrow, at least for a week. As it turned out, Harry did not have Dumbledore's permission to go to The Burrow, "for security reasons." The Weasleys were warned, and albeit disappointed, they understood this was for the best. Harry did not understand what could be safer than a house full of wizards, until he remembered that Dumbledore had already mentioned the "special protection" that Privet Drive offered.  
  
Feeling resigned and much less cheerful than when he had first seen Hedwig and his three letters, Harry opened the one from his godfather:  
  
"Harry, I am in a bit of a rush since I am on some secret Dumbledore business, as you know, but I just wanted to let you know that I am all right so don't worry about me. I worry about you, on the other hand. Dumbledore informed me that you had written to him. That's a very good reflex. If ever your scar should hurt you again, or if anything unusual happens, DO NOT HESITATE TO WRITE to me or Dumbledore. You're safe at Privet Drive, so don't do anything stupid like running off to The Burrow without Dumbledore's permission. Take care, Snuffles."  
  
Harry thought that Sirius's letter seemed a bit harsh, but then again, Sirius was under quite a bit of pressure at the moment, and he worried a lot for Harry. It was really no wonder that his stress made him sound unusually edgy in his letters. It wasn't unlike Ginny, who worried for Harry so much that she had adopted a quite bossy tone at one point in her letter. As he sat down to reply to her letter, another owl came in, shuffling his letters as it landed on his desk. This unfamiliar owl was about as big as Hedwig, and had brown and white stripes all over its body. The top of its head was brown with tiny white dots.  
  
That's odd. I wonder whom it's from.  
  
As soon as he had untied the letter from the newcomer's leg, the striped owl glared at Pigwidgeon, who was now fluttering about the room, rejuvenated after this long rest. The foreign owl gave a last dignified hoot, just to give that ridiculous sparrow an example of a real owl, and left without waiting for Harry's response. Harry recognized Hermione's writing, and supposed she was still in Bulgaria, because he had never seen an owl like that before.  
  
"Dear Harry,  
  
How are you doing? Actually, wrong question. How could you not have told me that your scar hurt you regularly? I mean, that's what friends are for: so you can tell them when something's wrong. You probably were trying to keep me from worrying, but you know, Harry, I really care about you, and I want to know everything that's happening to you so that I can help you.  
  
Thank Merlin that Ron told me about you scar. That's the only interesting and sensible thing he told me since the beginning of the summer! Do you know what he actually thinks? I can't even tell you, it's so vulgar. Of course, it has to do with Viktor and I. But I mean, bloody hell, it isn't his problem! Besides, we are only friends, although that red haired prat refuses to believe me. You do believe me, don't you, Harry? Well, tell Ron that he's a git: I'm not writing to him anymore. I mean, what's the use? He's so mean and I hate it when he reacts like that. He's so childish, it's almost as if he were jealous. But of course he isn't. If he is, though, could you  
  
Anyhow, he just shouldn't treat me that way. I'm not his property. And I thought he'd grow during the summer, so much for me!  
  
Ok, enough about Ron. Just thinking about him makes me... I can't really describe it, but it makes me pretty angry. I probably won't be writing to you much for the following month, although I will try to stay in touch. I'm meeting a girl I've been writing to recently. She's really sweet, at least judging by her letters, and she used to be a friend of Fleur Delacour's. She goes to Beauxbatons, but before that she lived in Egypt. I never heard of a wizarding school there, so I guess I'll have to do some research about that. Well, I'll see you on September 1st. Or maybe sooner... Love,  
  
from Hermione  
  
P.S.: I'm sending this letter by a Boreal Owl, which is one of the local owls here in Bulgaria. Aren't they so cute? They're not as cute as the Eurasian Pygmy-Owls, though... I'm giving one to Ginny in the Hogwarts Express because I know how much she wants an owl of her own! (But don't tell her: it's a surprise!)"  
  
Harry was thrilled that Hermione would be giving Ginny an owl of her own. She would be so happy! He was also intrigued about the girl Hermione had been writing to-- who could this mystery girl be? And why did Hermione write "Or maybe sooner?" She probably didn't know yet that he couldn't come to The Burrow. Harry didn't know if Hermione would come to The Burrow. Maybe so. He cringed as he thought of the many and frequent fights she and Ron would be having. Then again, maybe this would bring them closer together... After all, most of Hermione's letter was about Ron, and most of Ron's was about her. Harry rolled his eyes and considered writing them a collective letter along the lines of "Oh, just SNOG ALREADY!"  
  
He pushed the thought away, as that would probably make them even more vehement in their denial of their love for each other. Instead, he wrote very similar - but still somewhat personalized - letters to each of them. When he finished Ron's letter, Harry realized that he hadn't yet replied to Ginny. I can't believe that I didn't even manage to make time to write back to her yet! He scrambled furiously for a quill and a parchment, and wrote:  
  
"Dear Ginny, How are you doing? I'm so glad that you're playing Quidditch!"  
  
Harry, in a moment of delirium, thought of writing "I've fantasized about you on a broom, oh, only about a million times" but instead wrote:  
  
"I can't wait to see you play. Who knows, maybe you'll get chosen for the team! That is, if Katie, Angelina or Alicia decides to leave, since we can't just kick them out, really. . . I wrote to Dumbledore, like you asked me to (yes, master Ginny). He told me that I couldn't come to The Burrow! That means that I have to stay here all summer and do chores for the Dursleys. I did manage to make them pay me, though. Or else, I'm sure Hermione would have started some kind of association against my slave labour. Perhaps she would have called it "B.A.R.F.", for British Anti-slave- labour Rage Foundation.  
  
I don't think we should worry about Hermione and Ron anymore. For now, anyway. I mean, they obviously like each other, but I think that letters won't do any good. The more we insist, the more they'll deny it (you know how stubborn they are). So for now, we should let time arrange things (and when we're at Hogwarts, we can take more active measures). Maybe there'll be another Ball or something, and we can convince Ron to ask Hermione. "  
  
And I can work up the nerve to ask you, he thought .  
  
Hey! Where did that come from?  
  
Harry decided to end the letter before his hand wrote his most intimate - and embarrassing - thoughts out of its own accord.  
  
"I can't come to The Burrow, but I hope we'll keep writing. See you around and take care of yourself, Harry."  
  
Harry hoped that his letter didn't sound too eager or lovesick, as he was aiming for a more friendly tone. He really wasn't sure what his feelings for her were, but he decided to opt a friendly attitude for now. As soon as he was done, he sent a very excited and eager Pigwidgeon on its way, with his letters to Ron and Ginny.  
  
* * *  
  
During the second week of labor, Harry completely reorganized the cabinets in the garage and cleaned up the attic. After spending a day or two squeezed between a dirty wall and a not-so-clean-either car, Harry managed to rid the garage of all the cobwebs and oil stains. He then pursued his goal of tidying the Dursley house by attacking the attic. This room had always been locked and Petunia would have killed him had she found him in there. But then again, she would have killed him in pretty much any room he might enter, if she could have.  
  
After opening the barricaded windows to let some fresh air enter the room, he began moving huge cardboard boxes that were piled up in trembling towers. He found a lot of amazing items, still more boring ones. There was a collection of Dudley's mouth prints and hair from ages one month to six years, ripped pictures that Uncle Vernon had taken of his neighbors' cars, mutilated dolls which probably had been Aunt Petunia's, and lots of other gadgets, falling apart and already part of the local rats' food chain.  
  
In a darker corner, he stumbled upon a medium sized box pressed between two piles of cookbooks. These books obviously hadn't been read for a long time, judging by their disastrous state and Aunt Petunia's cooking. Harry opened the box and pulled out a blue and pink bunny holding a flower -a white lily. There also were some books, mainly classics, on which Harry recognized his mother's serious notes. There was also a spell book, smaller than the rest, covered in white and gold leather. The title read, "Love Charms: How They Changed the Course of Muggle and Wizard History". Harry opened it, and read some of the stories:  
  
How Calypso kept Odysseus in her island during seven years by casting a simple spell...  
  
How Viviane freed Merlin from Morgan's curse by using the power of her love...  
  
How Romeo and Juliet, by dying for love, had managed to generate peace between to hateful families...  
  
And finally how Iphigenia, by sacrificing herself, protected her father Agamemnon against the terrible curse the evil enchantress Artemis was about to cast upon him.  
  
Harry felt his eyes water, and a tear fell on the page representing Iphigenia dying for her father. So his mother had known what she was doing when she protected her son. She had believed in this tiny book, believed in herself, believed in her love for Harry. To avoid crying and risking to be seen by the Dursleys, Harry opened an envelope that lay at the bottom of the box.  
  
He stared astounded at twenty or so pictures of his mother; the colored rectangles spread on the floor like water spilling. He recognized his mother in the baby smiling at the photographer, in the little girl with a summer dress and a straw hat, and in the charming ten-year-old soccer player with her ball under her arm. He wished he could keep them all, but he figured Aunt Petunia would notice if he hung them in his room.  
  
He decided to keep only one. A Lily looking fifteen, or perhaps a little less, was lying on her stomach, in the grass of a beautiful garden. Her dress looked like a cloud around her, and her face, emerging from a book, shined with the beginning of a smile. Harry felt tears in his eyes, again. He just couldn't stop it- she was so pretty, with her red hair and deep green eyes, why did she have to die so young, especially to save him?  
  
She had died when she loved deeply, yet Voldemort, consumed by his hatred and anger, had managed to survive. This just seemed so unfair! Right now, Harry just felt like knocking the world over. He hesitated between giving in to his anger, or abandoning his fight for self-control. Maybe it was time for him to let go, and cry his heart out. The only problem was, he was alone, and desperate.  
  
Petunia's screech, ordering him to come to dinner, brought him back to reality. Harry hid the picture in the book on love spells, and plunged it in his pocket. He left the now-tidy attic, hoping someday he could come back here and take away all these treasures, never to return in this detested household.  
  
* * *  
  
During the third and fourth weeks, Harry created an alley in the Dursley's garden. The cement path separated the lawn into two green rectangles, which made it look cleaner. But this was only due to tiring, hard work. He couldn't pretend he actually liked doing these tasks, but at least he didn't have to remain imprisoned in the house with the Dursleys. Besides, he truly enjoyed the smell of cut grass when night was coming, or the odorous humidity of the lawn in the morning. Not to mention the captious smell coming from trees in the neighboring gardens, or the incredible heat provided by the sun at its peak.  
  
All in all, it wasn't so bad, especially considering the physical changes Harry got as a result from his chores. Once inside his room, Harry stared at his reflection. His bright green eyes stood out more than usual because of the light bronze color of his skin. His unruly jet-black hair was the same as ever, stubbornly refusing to obey Harry's brush. Harry didn't mind it one bit though, since it reminded him of his father.  
  
Besides, it looked quite - manly, now that his body had developed. Indeed, his shoulders had broadened and he was no longer ashamed of his meager arms - which were far from being small at this moment. His abs even looked like tablets of Lindt, and his legs were... Well, let's just say young women who passed by the Dursley's house often stopped simply when seeing his muscular legs. Wow, he sometimes thought, hearing a woman's gasp, I wonder why they keep staring at me like that. I mean, it's not like I'm handsome or anything. I wonder... I wonder if girls at Hogwarts would find me attractive...  
  
* * *  
  
After a long day of work, Harry came out of the shower and was surprised to see Pigwidgeon hovering above his bed, on which he had dropped a letter. Ginny's reply, Harry thought, and his heart leapt. During the past few weeks, Harry and Ginny had corresponded quite regularly. They had kept their friendly tone, which still kept Harry in the dark as to how she felt about him. In her letters, Ginny didn't reveal anything concerning her feelings for Harry. Were these just friendly feelings? Or did they go deeper than that? That was what Harry wanted to know, but he didn't ask, of course.  
  
Harry knew that letters were a very practical way to conceal one's emotions, for he had censored a lot of his hormonal feelings for her, making himself keep to the same, friendly tone as her. He longed to see her, but knew that he had to wait a bit more than a month. He eagerly opened the letter, and read:  
  
"Hey Harry!  
  
So, how's your work coming along? Are you still building muscles to make all the girls in school faint at the sight of you? Run screaming like banshees, more like! But I suppose you just want a certain Ravenclaw Seeker's jaw to drop to the floor as soon as she sees how handsome and charming you've become... Well keep dreaming!  
  
Hahaha you know I'm only joking, right?  
  
Did I tell you that Angelina came over at our house last weekend? Her and Fred are pretty...er...close, if you know what I mean. Mum and Dad were following them around everywhere, not letting them out of their sight for one second-- they even followed Fred to the bathroom!! They didn't go in, just stayed outside the door, of course... But still! As if he'd go there to meet up with Angelina for a quick shag! I don't know how she put up with Fred in the first place, but if I were her, I'd be so freaked out by my parents-- er, Fred's parents-- that I'd break up with him while I still have my sanity! Seriously, my family is too over-protective...  
  
And this is just for Fred, so imagine if it were me bringing home a boyfriend! He would never hear the end of it! I mean, all my brothers would probably pound him for taking their "baby sister" away, and my parents would just lock me up until I turned forty-three. You see, my parents' policy is only to allow me to date after I'm married. Adults make a whole lot of sense.  
  
Ha, right! I guess I'll be lonely all my life. If ever I meet a bloke crazy enough to be able to stand me, he'll still never survive, with the family I have! Otherwise, mom is going crazy with the sound of all the explosions coming from the twins' room. She's always threatening to take everything away! But when she does, they always manage to get more... And I've seen them get lots of letters, and write more order sheets for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
I wonder where they got the money for all of this. They even asked me what color I think Ron would look good in, because they want to buy him new robes! That is yet another mystery for (da-dum DA-DUM!) agent 000: Ny. Gin- Ny. Get it? (We talked about James Bond in Muggle Studies, and I just love it when he says: "Bond. James Bond."!!!)  
  
Of course, I say "yet another mystery" because Hermione still hasn't told me ANYTHING about her mysterious pen pal other than the fact that she's meeting her. Seriously, I'm her best friend! And girls are supposed to tell each other things, right? Did she tell you anything more about her since the last time you wrote? I bet she's just hushing it all up and making it seem mysterious to make it look interesting, and to gloat because she knows something we don't.  
  
Sometimes she's so annoying that she just makes me want to roll my eyes. She can be very immature. It's not like me, of course. "Mature" is my middle name (along with "Smart", "Beautiful", "Hilarious", and "Nice"... now that I think of it, my parents must really like me to give me all these names...) She also told me she had ANOTHER surprise for me. Perhaps she bought me a book on Goblin Rebellions (Oh joy! I just can't get enough of those! History classes leave me starving for more).  
  
Well, I must get going. My schizophrenic self is now forced to adopt the persona of "Ginny the house-elf" in order to set the table (mum's throwing pillows at me to hurry up).  
  
Love,  
  
Ginny."  
  
Harry felt like his heart fluttered, and didn't even have the sense to find this childish. She had signed "Love, Ginny". She had never done that before, had she? He would have noticed... That didn't mean anything, though: his best friend signed all of her letters with "Love from Hermione". But she had always done it, while Ginny... It was the first time! Did that mean that she actually liked him? Or did it mean she didn't anymore, and wasn't afraid of admitting her friendly love to Harry? These questions ran through Harry's head like a cloud of noisy bees, causing all the rest of his thoughts to blur.  
  
Why am I making such a big deal out of this? When did I start hoping that she loved me more than as a friend? Are these just my hormones talking, or did I really develop feelings for her, over the small bit of correspondence we had over the summer?  
  
His head was starting to hurt. But still, she had written: "Love, Ginny"... He sat down on his bed, feeling dizzy and yet so happy. Maybe she still loved him after all. Maybe she didn't. Harry examined all of the possibilities like others tear petals from daisies to find the answer. Finally, exhausted, burning with happiness and doubt, he let himself fall on his hard bed. He had never felt that way before, and he couldn't determine whether it was that he felt protected by Ginny's love, or that he himself was falling in love. A few seconds later, Harry fell asleep, his hand holding on tightly to Ginny's letter. 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Surprise  
  
"There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved."  
  
Charles Morgan  
  
Harry watched Hedwig as she flew away, carrying the last letter from the fourteen-year-old boy he still was. But only for two more hours, because at midnight the first day would start on which he counted fifteen! He went to lie on the bed, expecting a sleepless night as always before his birthday. Yet as he tried to think of what would happen the next day, of the letters and presents he would receive, his mind drifted off to Ginny. He just couldn't stop thinking about her. He imagined her, sleeping in her bedroom, her soft, creamy face resting on a pillow; the moonlight forming a silver veil on her round arms and copper freckles; her hair of auburn gold spreading on the white of her sheets; her adorable nose and... Harry felt his thoughts quieting, as a wave of appeasement lulled him into sleep.  
  
***  
  
A tiny square of light coming from the window played on the now fifteen- year-old boy's face. He turned around to evade it, but then, as if this bit of English morning sunlight was burning his neck, he jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed up.  
  
Today was his birthday. He was extremely excited, although he knew nothing special was going to happen -especially coming from the Dursleys. He really wanted the letters to arrive, so he was a bit disappointed when he noticed that Hedwig hadn't flown in yet and that neither owls nor birthday cards were in sight.  
  
Harry sighed, hoping there was some explanation to this delay -perhaps the Death Eaters had hijacked owls in order to make him feel neglected... Probably not, he thought, silently laughing: who would go to such trouble just to annoy him? He preferred not to think of the answer and headed downstairs.  
  
As usual, his arrival in the kitchen went unnoticed by his relatives who were engulfing their breakfast. He cooked himself something to eat, glad that the Dursleys had abandoned the idea of making him cook their breakfast when they had learned Sirius Black was friends with their beloved nephew. I hope Padfoot is all right, Harry thought while staring stupidly at the white of his frying eggs. They were as white as his godfather's face when he had first met him... Wow, that's a charming comparison, Harry couldn't help but notice. Still, thinking of his godfather always made him feel happier.  
  
He finally sat down and began eating silently. Uncle Vernon's gluttonous grunts were barely equaled by the chewing noise coming from Dudley, and even Aunt Petunia's face showed a hint of disgust. This was the usual breakfast for Harry, so he found it absolutely normal and justified to be in a hurry, as he was eager to leave the table. Suddenly, Vernon put the newspaper down -nearly knocking his wife's glass of orange juice- and, putting his greasy hands under his triple chin, he addressed Harry in an almost nice tone, something he thought was absolutely impossible. He immediately thought of it as a present, and did so even more after he heard what Uncle Vernon had to say.  
  
"Harry, your aunt, cousin and I have some very important business to attend to."  
  
And, how would that affect me?  
  
"Since we can't leave you here by yourself..."  
  
What, you're afraid I'm going to run away with the furniture?  
  
"...we decided we had to find another solution."  
  
Brilliant deduction...  
  
"So, we will drop you off at Mrs. Figg's house on our way to London, and you will stay there until we come to pick you up."  
  
No kidding?  
  
Although Harry had never adored Mrs. Figg, he was so glad to be out of his miserable den and at least a mile away from his adoptive family during his birthday that he nearly jumped out of his seat to do cartwheels all over the house.  
  
Oh wait, I don't know how to do cartwheels, he remembered. However, since he knew thanking his Aunt and Uncle was useless, he tried to seem interested. "Where are you going?" he asked.  
  
"I, um..." Uncle Vernon stared blankly at his wife, but she seemed as dumbfounded as he was.  
  
I guess it runs in the family, Harry thought, as he noticed Dudley's open mouth and stupid eyes.  
  
"Well, er- we are going... That's none of your business, nope, it is none of your business, boy!" Vernon finally roared in a mounting crescendo.  
  
"Oh, Okay. Well, I hope you enjoy it," Harry added, trying to be convincing in his caring attitude.  
  
He couldn't care less about what they were going to do, as long as they would leave him alone; and he knew his aunt and uncle weren't fooled either. Besides, why would he try to be nice to them when they had spent their lives making his own as painful and miserable as possible? It wasn't like he actually had asked to go and live with them anyway... Never mind, it's your birthday, Harry reminded himself. Speaking of birthday... He quickly put his plate in the dishwasher, waved goodbye to Dudley, who sent him a grimace of incomprehension in response, and ran to his room.  
  
"DON'T RUN IN THE H..."  
  
The words were cut off by the violent slam of the door. Harry emerged into his tiny, messy, but mostly, empty bedroom - empty of any indication of his birthday, that was. There were absolutely no letters whatsoever, nothing that could have indicated that today was his birthday. Shit, he thought. They can't have forgotten... Not Ginny, not Sirius, not Hagrid! He understood that Hermione and Ron might be too caught up in their love affair, but forgetting his birthday? All of them? Harry didn't have a clue what was happening. This just didn't make any sense. He began straying in the bedroom as if he were lost, bumping into the piles of his books and Dudley's old toys -computers, cars, play stations and TV's. He sent a Super Nintendo flying with a powerful kick. Too powerful.  
  
How did I do that? Surely my legs can't be that strong. My foot doesn't even hurt!  
  
By the time Uncle Vernon came to fetch him, Harry was still walking back and forth in the bedroom, tripping at nearly every step he took. He grabbed his jacket, just in case Mrs. Figg might want him to stay outside of the house as long as possible... He doubted this, but he liked having something to protect him from that horrible feline smell -even if it didn't act as such a powerful screen, the charm he had put on the coat supposedly repelled animals. Yeah right, he had thought as he cast the spell. But then again, it doesn't cost anything to try.  
  
The car ride was silent. The Dursleys actually took the car to drop Harry off a few yards down the street, probably because they didn't want to let him go by himself but didn't feel like meeting Mrs. Figg either. Harry shot murderous glances toward the car that abandoned him in front of the neighbor's door. He was in a horrible mood: no letters whatsoever had arrived, no presents, no sign of them, no nothing! He could have killed someone. Well, probably not, but he enjoyed telling himself he was in the mood to do so.  
  
Harry stood in the middle of the road, feeding on his own anger, and he felt the rage flowing in his blood, beating against his temple, rushing at the tips of his fingers, screaming to get out... A low and grave noise came up from under the cement, like the hungry stomach of an ogre. Suddenly, the ground began to shake slightly. In a soft, strangely silent motion, a fissure opened in the road and spread from one end to another.  
  
Harry blinked, then ran to Mrs. Figg's door: he certainly didn't want to be caught right over a gigantic crack in the middle of the street, did he? He knocked violently, quite shocked by what he had just done, and still enraged. Maybe he should have continued splitting the Earth, because it felt so good to rip something apart and feel like you were one with the earth. Okay, now I'm talking to myself. He had been a lot, lately, and realized this when Mrs. Figg opened the door.  
  
She peered at Harry from behind her thin, rectangular glasses. Her small, gray eyes scrutinized Harry, or something else perhaps -Harry couldn't decide- as the old woman's eyes were partly hidden by her white hair, which, frankly, was a mess. You can barely tell if it was her cats' hair or her own, Harry thought evil-mindedly.  
  
She seemed to sense his angry disposition, so she simply said, "Sit down on the couch, Nora's birthday cake is burning..."  
  
That said, she left him alone. Nora was a Persian cat with a green eye and a blue one. Splendid, Harry thought, I'm born on the same day as her ugly monster. He shooed three hairy kittens that had been sitting on the couch and sat there, trying to get rid of the pestilence of cat food. Hordes of felines came purring against his legs, and some even dared to try and sit on him. Harry nearly kicked one of them, and was glaring at the animals when he noticed a black dog, peacefully standing amongst them. She has a passion for dogs now? Just my luck!  
  
But then it crossed his mind. Black dog? Black dog?!? What did Sirius think he was doing? Harry jumped from the couch and hurried toward the dog, who trotted away happily. Harry followed him, wondering what this meant. He emerged in the kitchen, gasping, and nearly tripped on the threshold when he saw who was waiting for him inside.  
  
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!"  
  
As he had guessed, Sirius was there. He was clean-shaven, save for a thin mustache and a line of beard, and his hair was held back in a ponytail. He seemed to be in pretty good health and great mood. Indeed, he gave Harry a dashing white smile that contrasted with the caramel tone of his skin -he had obviously been to a sunny place for hiding. Next to him stood Remus, his robes as shabby as ever and his brown eyes twinkling. He seemed to have aged since the last time Harry saw him, and it had nothing to do with his salt-and-pepper hair. Something in Remus' eyes made him look tired and anxious, but Harry just couldn't figure out what it was. I'll ask him later, he promised himself.  
  
And last, but not least since he outgrew the two men by three or four inches, stood Ron. He beamed at Harry, who was incredibly happy to see his bright orange haired friend after such a long time. Such a pang of color nearly blinded Harry, who couldn't believe his eyes anyhow: they hadn't forgotten! They were there for him! It came as a complete surprise to him, after he had thought for so long that they had abandoned him. You idiot, he murmured to himself, for doubting their friendship.  
  
"You idiot," he repeated louder to Ron, who patted him on the back, still laughing at his friend's dumbfounded face.  
  
Behind them, a pan in her hand, stood Mrs. Figg. Only she didn't look like an old hag anymore; rather she resembled some sort of aristocrat, a refined lady. Her hair was now very neatly arranged in a bun, from which emerged a cascade of white hair, pouring on her shoulders. Her gray, sparkling eyes seemed thoughtful, but the smile she bore on her pale face indicated she was touched by this reunion. She stepped toward Harry, and explained everything, answering the questions he was about to formulate.  
  
"Harry, I was James' godmother. When your parents were killed, I wasn't allowed to take you with me, as that would have made us a much too obvious target for Voldemort. However, I managed to get permission from higher authorities to keep a close watch on you. I am truly sorry I imposed such a terrifying and cat-full regime on you, but it was in order to make sure you would not attach yourself to me and eventually find out about me being a witch. And so I had to watch you grow up from afar. But you reminded me so much of your father that sometimes it was very painful to keep this from you."  
  
She had a low, soothing voice, that calmed Harry's mind as he thought of objections to raise. It was hard to believe that she had kept all this hidden from him: his father's godmother! What was it that made her house less safe than that of the Dursleys? At least she was a witch! Harry could hardly understand, even after Mrs. Figg's explanation. But of course, if Dumbledore (Harry was pretty sure the "higher authorities" was Dumbledore) had decided that Harry would stay with his aunt, he must have had a good reason. Besides, there was nothing Harry could do about it now. All the anger he had felt before vanished, at least for the time being. He smiled, and as a childish glee replaced his past anger, he felt as though he wouldn't be able to stop smiling if he tried. Ron took over the explanation excitedly.  
  
"The birthday surprise was her idea. She was tired of lying to you, you know? So she contacted all of us, asking us not to send you letters or give you your presents, and to come today to her house. So we came and she put a spell on your uncle, aunt and cousin to make them go away and leave you here with her. And then you came up and you were looking furious, but you should have seen your face when you saw us! It was hilarious!"  
  
Ron began laughing again. Remus and Sirius laughed as well, so Mrs. Figg gently shooed them away from the kitchen.  
  
"Although it's not Nora's birthday, I still have a cake to bake," she explained with a cheeky wink.  
  
Sirius led them through another door in the kitchen that Harry had never seen and they entered a room entirely decorated for the occasion. All four men sat down and began talking excitedly, glad to be reunited.  
  
***  
  
Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Ron tried to restrain himself from jumping from the sofa and running throughout the house, but he gave up trying to hide his excitement and succumbed to his impulse. Harry arrived in the living room right after Ron, just as he opened the door. The sunlight entered the room in a bright flash and Hermione appeared like an angel. Her tanned face glowed with delight at the sight of her two friends. She gave them both a warm, perfectly white smile and threw herself in Ron's arms.  
  
I guess they're not angry at each other any more, Harry thought with a knowing smile.  
  
He just stood there, happy for his friends, as she began telling him how delighted she was to see them  
  
...or rather, him.  
  
She wore a white dress, whose uneven cut created a diagonal on her tanned, perfect legs. The smooth hazelnut brown of her eyes was filled with tears - Aren't we getting a little carried away, wondered Harry- and her sun-kissed curls were completely wild, especially in Ron's face.  
  
After a few very touching and passionate moments in Ron's arms, Hermione hugged Harry. "Happy birthday!" she murmured in his ear, in a soft, smooth voice. He laughed and kissed her on the cheeks, as Ron became red and hit himself mentally-why hadn't he thought of that? Hermione finally greeted Remus and Sirius and went in the kitchen to see if Mrs. Figg needed help. She came back a few minutes later and went to sit with her friends.  
  
"I always forget how magic can simplify everything," Hermione said. "She told me she'd be there in a second; apparently her cookbook was having some problems determining the proportions for so many people!"  
  
"So many people? Who else is coming?" Harry asked.  
  
"Aha, that's a surprise," Ron commented in a mysterious tone. "In fact, it's more a matter of quality than quantity..."  
  
"I, for one, See quite a bunch of red flames. Since the Sun is in the third house and the Lover in the fifth, I predict that there will soon be a large group of auburn-haired people coming in. Probably some Weasleys, unless Saturn encounters Jupiter, which is quite unlikely," Hermione added in a very nebulous, Professor Trelawney-like voice.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as she and Ron roared with laughter.  
  
It was good to be reunited again.  
  
***  
  
Harry felt extremely happy they were here. But somehow, seeing Ron and Hermione together (and judging by their faces, he guessed that an argument would arouse pretty soon), he felt like he was missing something or rather, someone. Remus and Sirius observed silently and nodded to one another: they knew this look, they had seen it so many times on James' face when Lily was nowhere to be seen. Harry's father wondered who the young woman was and he hoped they had invited her. Since there was only one additional girl invited, he wondered what the chances were that it would be her. However, as he was trying to figure out whom his godson could be waiting for, a green flame lit up in the chimney and the rest of the Weasley family began appearing.  
  
Fred and George emerged laughing, which wasn't very surprising. They immediately wished Harry a happy birthday, even proposing him some sweets, which he wisely refused. Then they went to say hello to Sirius, Remus and Hermione. When they saw her, they stopped laughing: their eyes grew as wide as Ron's had, and they were utterly speechless -which, for the twins, was a first.  
  
George tried a "Hi, Hermione", but Fred mouthed their thoughts: "Bloody Hell, Hermione, you're gorgeous!"  
  
Apparently, the Weasley definition of gorgeous took smaller notice of the bushy hair than it did of the ample cleavage. Ron shot his brothers an evil and jealous glare, but Hermione kissed them both, laughing, a bright pink from the compliment. George spotted Sirius and he involuntarily stepped back, his face whitening from apprehension. Immediately, though, he managed to get a hold of himself. Fred observed as his twin went to shake hands with Sirius.  
  
"Mum explained everything about you, Mister Black. It seems that Dad knew already -Dumbledore told him you were one of his operatives. I'm happy to learn that you are innocent." He then added, looking very business like, "Yes, I am indeed delighted."  
  
Fred let out a cough that sounded oddly like, "Percy Junior."  
  
"Call me Sirius. You make it sound like I'm your grandfather, or older yet, Moody. Pleased to meet you as well, Fred. Or is it George? I'll just settle for Weasley. "  
  
"Mister Sirius Black, pleased to meet you. Absolutely marvellous. I am positively thrilled," said Fred as he enthusiastically shook hands with Harry's godfather. "Oh, and Harry, I am really sorry that Mum and Dad won't come: Dad has a seminar and he asked Mum to accompany him. Bill is still in Egypt. He's had a lot of work lately as well- sometimes, he works so much, I'm surprised he actually works for a bank."  
  
"Yes, well, you would be surprised to see what your brother does," Sirius said. "Quite surprised indeed," he added somewhat mysteriously, but he did not bother to explain. Fred and George, understanding he was not about to enlighten them, went to have a seat on the sofa facing Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
Five minutes later, Charlie Apparated in the room. His mouth curled into a mischievous smile and he explained the reason for his delay, "Fred and George put a spell on Percy's suitcase. When he tried to pick it up, the leather immediately transferred itself to his skin and he became a leather statue. Thank Merlin Ginny had the sense of looking in the twins' stuff to find the antidote. She's coming up right after me, just making sure Percy's all right," he said, giving the twins a scolding glance.  
  
The twins could barely hold themselves up. "It worked!" they hiccuped between each wave of laughter.  
  
Even Charlie couldn't pretend for much longer that this didn't amuse him. He said "Happy birthday!" to Harry. Grinning, he winked at Hermione, adding an appreciative glance that enraged Ron, and finally went to talk to Sirius and Remus, leaving Harry standing in front of the chimney. Hermione, Ron, Fred and George were too absorbed in their conversation to notice -the boys being even more absorbed by Hermione than by their chat-, but Sirius noticed Harry was waiting expectantly. He said something to Charlie, who, in turn revealed some quite amusing secret to Remus and Sirius, and all three laughed. Their mirth seemed exaggerated, but definitely liberating; it had something almost sickening to it, as if they were laughing to forget the horrors they had seen or would go through. Soon enough though, they got back to the serious business their laughs were trying to free them from. Their faces darkened as they adopted a lower tone, eyes burning with a mysterious glint.  
  
Harry faced the chimney, staring blankly at the red bricks. He didn't feel like moving and his legs wouldn't have anyway. He didn't hear nor see Remus, Sirius or Charlie behind him, or he would have been alarmed by their state of restlessness. He didn't pay attention to hsi friends on the couch. No, his mind was elsewhere...  
  
Merlin, I'm so stupid! I'm paralyzed at the idea of seeing Ginny again... Wow, what has happened to me?  
  
He chuckled, but his laugh got stuck in his throat when green flames began swirling in the hearth. As Harry tried desperately to hide that he was choking, Ginny emerged from the fireplace. She slightly stumbled, her hand covering her eyes to protect her from the smoke, and frowned slightly when she saw her brothers on the couch. Then she saw Harry. Her hand went down from her face as a radiant smile spread across her face. A perfect row of white pearls shone just for Harry, kindling a little fire in his heart.  
  
Harry couldn't decide if her ecstatic grin was the only cause for his chest feeling like if it was about to explode. He couldn't take his eyes off her vermilion lips and the burning red flames of her hair. And her freckles were ravishing, looking like gold on her slender arms and next to that...  
  
Did her brothers actually know what she was going to wear?  
  
Harry thought her black dress made her look devilishly sexy. It gently cupped the curves of her body -Since when does Ginny actually have curves?- and promoted the superb color of her curls. The youngest Weasley threw herself in Harry's arms.  
  
"Harry! Happy birthday!" she exclaimed, kissing him boldly on the cheek. Harry thought he was going to melt and he was absolutely conscious of his face turning red. "I missed you," she continued, nearly whispering this time.  
  
Her eyes searched for Harry's, which were desperately trying to avoid her look. But he couldn't hold his gaze away from her any longer: he glanced into her deep eyes and drowned. They were of that deep, sensuous warm chocolate color, tinted with amber and gold, that made him feel like the world was sweet and cozy. This was quite a new feeling for Harry, who had spent four years saving Hogwarts and who knew that the world wasn't sweet and cozy.  
  
How could I never have noticed that she has such beautiful eyes? Do something, do something! his mind commanded him.  
  
"How are you?" he managed to ask in a surprisingly stable voice. "I am so happy to see you here. It's really a great surprise!"  
  
That was really brilliant. Do something ELSE!  
  
Grasping his courage as firmly as possible, Harry put his arm around Ginny's waist, pulling her gently toward the couch where Ron was desperately trying to keep the twins off Hermione.  
  
She's wearing a bare-backed dress. Keep your hands off... But her skin is so soft to touch...  
  
Wow! STOP!  
  
Harry managed to calm his mind when he noticed that Ginny wasn't making a big deal at all about his arm being around her waist. Besides, Charlie seemed to have noticed that his little sister had arrived and was keeping a close watch on both of them. But as all good moments must come to an end, Ginny focused her attention back to Fred and George. The twins rose to greet her, a curious smile playing on Fred's lips. She literally jumped on them like a mother tiger protecting her baby (in this case, Percy). Harry stood there, dazed, as she began hollering at her brothers who listened to her attentively in order to know how well their trick had worked.  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ron watched the twins being yelled at by their smaller sister. Ron took advantage of his brothers' absence to sit next to Hermione on the couch, as Fred had squeezed himself between his brother and Hermione when he had arrived. Finally, Ginny stopped screaming and sat down between Harry and Hermione, noticing the furious glance Ron shot her when she tried sitting on the opposite side of Hermione. The red haired girl, looking around her, gave a delicious smile to the trio and, after nonchalantly adjusting a strand of her copper hair, she asked Hermione in a quite innocent-sounding tone, "So, Hermione, how did your vacation in Bulgaria go?"  
  
Ron went red and his fists clenched silently, but he managed to keep quiet.  
  
Harry, though, had understood what Ginny was up to and decided to follow her lead. "Yeah, Hermione, what did you do? I mean, you weren't very precise in your letters, but it sounded wonderful."  
  
Hermione had immediately figured out what they were doing as well and played along.  
  
"Oh, it was wonderful! And Viktor was amazing! From the first day, when I arrived by plane, Viktor came to get me. He carried my suitcases through the entire airport -and let me tell you, he's not used to airports! - and even offered me a gorgeous bouquet of Bulgarian flowers. Ginny, you would have adored them, they were so colorful and fresh and..."  
  
"What's a plane?" Ron interrupted brutally.  
  
"And an airport?" Fred added with a sheepish smile.  
  
Hermione gave Harry a desperate glance: how could she explain that to a bunch of people who were wizards through and through?  
  
"Ask your dad, he'll know," Harry offered, not so sure whether Arthur Weasley would give them the appropriate explanation or not.  
  
"That is, if we ever manage to see him," observed George.  
  
"With what happened last year, the Ministry is very busy. I mean, the Wizarding World is torn between those who acknowledge You Know Who's return," Fred explained.  
  
"And those who don't," concluded George. "Plus with recent ev-"  
  
Ginny gave her brother a not so discrete kick, Hermione looked down and Ron clenched his jaw.  
  
"What? What happened?" Harry demanded, feeling somewhat excluded.  
  
"Well... There have been several mysterious attacks across Europe, especially in countries with the highest ratio of Wizards to Muggles."  
  
"What she's saying," translated Ron, "is that people have died because of Dark Magic in Great Britain, France, Italy... and Bulgaria," he added with a furious look to Hermione. Harry was wondering why Ron made such a point of tracing things back to Bulgaria -not to mention, Viktor Krum- but Hermione's words made it clear for Harry.  
  
"We were er... having dinner with friends of Viktor's"-at this Hermione blushed- "when there was an explosion in the bar right next door. His friends Apparated back to their respective houses, but I can't Apparate, so Viktor and David stayed with me." She looked around at them all. "David is Viktor's best friend," Hermione added.  
  
Harry was surprised to see the beginning of a smile light her face and her cheeks turn pink. This didn't seem like a funny nor agreable moment, Harry thought. Hermione's eyes avoided Ron's glance, but he was too preoccupied by the Hermione-Viktor issue to understand that this blush wasn't about Viktor.  
  
"David and I focused all our energy on summoning two brooms, a single and a couple one -I was of course to share with one of them, since you all know I cannot stay on one for more than five minutes."  
  
"I could teach you," Fred proposed gallantly.  
  
"So could I," said George. His younger brother's hateful look dissuaded him. "Er, maybe not. I'll leave that to Fred. Er, I mean, Ron..."  
  
"Anyway," Ginny interrupted as Ron directed his glare toward his other brother, "what happened after?"  
  
"We got the brooms, and I was about to mount behind Viktor when David asked me to come on his broom."  
  
The ecstatic smile that suddenly lit up Hermione's face confirmed Ginny's suspicions.  
  
So it's about David, is it... Ginny thought. No wonder she kept repeating, 'Viktor and I are only friends.' That also explains her flirty attitude with the boys: she knows how things work now! At least she figured out how to enrage Ron. Not that it's a difficult task or anything... Ginny laughed silently, trying to concentrate on what Hermione was saying. She noticed the dumbfounded looks on the boys' faces. Ron was mouthing, "She's gone off her rocker" to Harry, as they both wondered why she was laughing by herself. Hermione didn't seem to care.  
  
"We left promptly, just in time to see the restaurant where we were eating blown to pieces by hooded figures." Hermione shuddered. "I don't think there was anyone left in the restaurant, but thirteen people were killed in the bar... How can the Ministry even pretend the attackers weren't Death Eaters? The Dark Mark certainly did fly over the burning ruins a few minutes afterwards."  
  
Harry stared into Hermione's eyes, and he imagined the Mark floating above the destroyed houses. Deep in the hazelnut brown of her eyes, he saw the black of the night, the green Mark, the fiery red and oranges of the flames.  
  
So Hermione is haunted by that vision, just like I am. And it is quite possible that what I saw happened as well. But then, if there were so many attacks this summer, why did I only witness this one? Not that I'm sad of not having seen more people being killed, but still, I wonder why...  
  
"Yeah, well, I told you Bulgaria was dangerous," Ron grunted. "Why did 'Vicky'..."  
  
"Viktor," Hermione corrected almost absentmindedly.  
  
"Why did 'Viktor'" -Ron fluttered his eyes, supposedly imitating Hermione- "not let you return home after that happened? I mean, it's not like you were safe with him or anything..."  
  
"But she obviously was with David," Ginny teased. "Safe with him, that is," she added with a smile.  
  
Ginny had hit too close to home this time. Hermione widened her eyes -would Ginny tell her brothers?- but then realized she could use her affair with David to her advantage- needless to say, make Ron jealous. Hermione gave the red haired girl a huge smile.  
  
So Gin understood, Hermione thought. Well, it's not surprising, After all, girls are so much more perceptive than boys. Although now, I'm going to have to answer all her questions about David. I suppose it won't be my little secret anymore...  
  
Her grin widened at the thought of David. Of course, they had gotten together a few days after the attack. David really was adorable, and she didn't feel as pressured with him as she felt with Viktor. Not that he was mean to her or anything.  
  
Quite the contrary, Hermione thought bitterly. He always wanted a hug, a good morning kiss even if it was three in the afternoon, offering her presents every single day. Viktor had been destroyed when he had seen Hermione and David together. After not speaking to them for a day, Viktor had had a very unexpected reaction.  
  
"Oh, and did I tell you Viktor had a girlfriend?" Hermione asked.  
  
Ron choked.  
  
There, I knew it, he thought. Now she's gonna admit that she lied to us all that time, and that she was indeed going out with him. What am I saying? She is STILL going out with him.  
  
His cheeks turned the color of his hair, as his freckles disappeared in the bright red of his face.  
  
"Yes, you told me!" Ginny added wickedly.  
  
Traitor, she read in her brother's eyes.  
  
Ron, you are so stupid, Ginny thought. It's not her she's talking about, since she was going out with David and not Viktor. But something tells me you wouldn't want me to announce this to you either.  
  
"It's a girl from his school, right?"  
  
"Well, not exactly... Her name is Lara. She's the daughter of Viktor's coach. She has been in love with him for years, but he never really paid attention to her. Until, one fine morning, I don't know what got into him." Yeah right I don't, Hermione thought. She continued, "He asked her out, and of course she agreed. But you see," she added pointedly, looking at Ron, "he didn't have to be my boyfriend to offer me flowers when he saw me after a long time."  
  
"Well maybe if..." Ron blurted out furiously.  
  
"Happy birthday to you," sang Arabella as she entered the room with a huge chocolate cake. "Happy birthday to you..."  
  
Sirius, Remus and Charlie joined their deep voices to the song, and were immediately followed by Fred and George, as well as Hermione and Ginny's sopranos. Ron mumbled something about "bloody Krum offering flowers", but good-naturedly wished Harry a happy birthday. Harry wondered whether it was better to have Ron grumbling or singing, but he soon forgot about it: he was flushing happily and blushing as well, so he concentrated all his might on turning back to a natural color. The song finally ended, thus allowing Harry to regain his composure. Ginny took hold of the knife and began cutting the cake, a covetous glint in her charming eyes. Hermione handed out the plates while Arabella brought cups and juices. The cake was absolutely delicious.  
  
After a few minutes of religious silence - chocolate is sacred - and the prompt disappearance of the cake, Harry opened his presents. He was extremely touched by what his friends had done for him, and had forgotten about his earlier bad mood. Once Harry had thanked everyone for the surprise party, cake, presents and presence, Sirius winked at Arabella. A swish of her wand brought a remote control to her hand. She manipulated it quickly, and suddenly the room was filled with music. Mrs. Figg smiled as she observed the blank look on all the Weasleys' faces.  
  
"It's quite practical in the Muggle World, you know. They have some magic of their own," she explained.  
  
"Bloody Hell, Dad would love that!" exclaimed Ron.  
  
Sirius invited Arabella to dance, thinking of how she reminded him of his aunt, and she accepted with a smile. Harry was lost in a reverie, which was more of an excuse not to invite Ginny to dance than a true mind wandering. Ginny got Hermione to dance, though, and they were having lots of fun trying to imitate Muggle and wizard singers. Ron, Fred, George, and even Charlie -who tried to pretend he was staring somewhere else- observed Hermione quite insistently.  
  
Harry only had eyes for Ginny, who really seemed not to care. In fact, neither girl cared and they enjoyed dancing so much. They were completely into the music. Who cared if the boys didn't have the nerve to come and invite them? Harry, Ron and the twins finally did join them, though. While Ginny and Hermione seemed perfectly comfortable, the boys found it so awkward to be so close to them -well, Harry and Ron at least- and so distant at the same time. It was as if they were in another world, lost in their thoughts.  
  
Hermione's thoughts wandered back to Bulgaria. Last time I had so much fun was with David. We were dancing, and then he asked me out. That was absolutely wonderful, even though Viktor was staring furiously at us. It's just too bad Ron would never gather the courage to come up to me and do like David. If only I had met Ron during vacation or something, before we actually became friends. Maybe there would have been a chance of... But no, what am I thinking? Love? As if... Besides, it isn't a shared feeling or anything, quite obviously.  
  
George's and Fred's thoughts were almost in sync, as so often. Hermione looks gorgeous. - Something has definitely happened to her this summer... - No wonder Ron likes her. - What would he do to me if I flirted with her, just for today?- And Fred's all over her too. - George, you should see yourself drooling over her! - Yeah, she's grown quite a bit. - I mean, look at her body. Merlin! - Bloody hell...  
  
Harry's focus was on the other girl. She dances so well -compared to Padma at least... And that dress on her ... Damn! I don't remember how she looked before the summer, but if Quidditch did that to her body, I'll have to glorify whoever invented that sport. Why am I so obsessed with her body anyhow? I mean, it's not ONLY about her body. Oh bloody hell, I'm so caught up with her. But what about Cho? I still love her, don't I? Love? Yeah, I think so. Logically, that means I can't love Ginny. Okay, I sound like Hermione now, with all the mathematical reasoning. Concentrate on dancing properly, you moron. I probably look like I've got a broom stuck somewhere in my body.  
  
Ron shared his brothers' subject of attention, while not their thoughts. Why is she laughing like that? She's probably thinking about stupid Krum. Argh ... I should have noticed before him how great Hermione is. No ... Well, I mean, not that I didn't but I should have told her FIRST. Now it's just too late for me. Great job, Ron. You blew it! Merlin, sometimes I just hate myself.  
  
Ginny's thoughts were purely joy. Yeah! I love this! Wow, I wish mom would let me have one of those stereos. Herm should have told me about these Muggle singers, they are so great! I hope we get to study Muggle Music in Muggle Studies Class soon! Maybe I should invite Harry to dance; after all, it's his birthday, and yet he seems so ... nervous. Nah, he'll just think I'm guffawing over him ... Who knows, maybe I am!  
  
Charlie thought, Harry ... You can keep an eye on my sister, but keep your hands off.  
  
Sirius' thoughts drew parallels to a somber past. Well, well, well ... I believe we will have a new couple soon. Or two perhaps. But they look so much like James and Lily, it's amazing. I hope destiny has a better future in store for them than it had for me.  
  
Arabella laughed silently as she switched the music to a languorous slow. Charlie, who was looking strangely at Harry dancing with Ginny, gave her a somewhat evil look that took her some time to figure out. She walked toward him, as if to go fetch something in the kitchen, but she murmured in his ear,"You're not her mother, you know. Besides, it's nothing serious, at their age. Don't worry, Harry won't take her away from you. Yet." She winked at the dragon keeper, who blushed, ashamed to be revealed so easily. But Arabella had already disappeared in the kitchen.  
  
***  
  
Life resumed its slow and monotonous pace at Privet Drive. Harry continued to work around the Dursley household for a ridiculously small pay, which somehow still managed to make him content and proud of his own labor. He was a bit behind schedule, since he was supposed to be planting flowers -according to his aunt's orders- but she had not properly evaluated the amount of work necessary to be rid of all those annoying, unwanted plants.  
  
As he pulled the weeds that stubbornly resumed their invasion of the garden day after day after day, he often found himself wistfully thinking back to his birthday party. How wonderful it had been to see all his friends, his friends who hadn't forgotten about him, but who had been sneaking around to surprise him! How wonderful it had been to see Ginny... Harry remembered getting up the nerve to ask her dance again for the last dance; and as the soft, warm voice of Celestina Warbeck enveloped the dancing couple, Harry got lost in Ginny's soft, warm chocolate eyes.  
  
"Ouch! Ssstupid humansss!"  
  
Harry snapped out of his reverie at the sound of a high-pitched succession of insults. He looked down at his hands, and saw that he had been so deep in his daydream that he hadn't been pulling a weed. He was actually holding a long, green, leaf-like snake, which writhed violently between his fingers.  
  
He dropped the serpent in surprise. It started slithering away, almost perfectly blending with the grass like a chameleon. Harry could still detect it though, as the moving of the grass and the rude comments about humans left a clear trace of the snake's position. He only caught bits of it:  
  
"Ssstupid.... Carelesss.... No consssideration whatsssoever."  
  
"Listen, I'm sorry if I hurt you but I seriously thought I was pulling a weed!" Harry whispered frantically to the snake -he didn't want the neighbors to hear him hissing!  
  
Perhaps that wasn't the best way to go. "I thought you were a weed." Damn stupid of me. Now it's going to be hurt and offended. And it's furious enough as it is.  
  
"Umm I mean, I wasn't really paying attention to what I was doing and..."  
  
He stopped as he saw the snake in question -or at least he thought it was the same one. Why is it that garden snakes all look alike?- at his feet, hanging on to his every words. How many snakes can there be in the garden, anyway? Chances are this is the right one.  
  
"You can underssstand what I'm sssaying," it stated quite simply. "And talk to me in my language," it added as an afterthought.  
  
"Ah yes, well, I'm a Parselmouth... so basically I can do that," Harry finished lamely.  
  
"I have heard of a boa conssstrictor who talked to a boy one day, and wasss ssset free from the zzzoo."  
  
"Ah yesss- er, I mean yes- that was me. He told me that he had never been to Brazil, but I-"  
  
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? I'm NOT paying you to talk to a snake! Now get back to work!" Vernon roared from the kitchen window.  
  
He quickly resumed reading the Sunday paper, but stopped suddenly when he realized what he had just seen. He stared into space, blinked hard a few times, as though making sure his eyes were working correctly, but then he remembered that it was his ears that he needed to clean out for better hearing. He slowly turned back to the garden, his mouth agape, and murmured in a strangely squeaky voice, "To talk with a... with a... with a snake?"  
  
Harry, who had been watching his uncle with a mix of amusement and apprehension, felt his mouth curl up at the edges. He wondered if his uncle had perhaps breathed in a lot of helium, which of course made him want to laugh so hard that he thought he would burst a few internal organs from trying to prevent his erupting laughter.  
  
Vernon Dursley did not like the glint of amusement he saw in his nephew's eyes. His face went from ghostly white to bright crimson in a matter of seconds, and during a fleeting moment Harry thought that he had performed accidental magic - surely his uncle's body couldn't bloat uncontrollably out of its own accord?  
  
"DO NOT MOCK ME, BOY!" Vernon boomed. "HOW DARE YOU DO THIS M- UTTER RUBBISH UNDER MY OWN ROOF?!?"  
  
I'm not under your roof; I'm in the garden, you idiot.  
  
"YOU GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!"  
  
Harry looked around to try to say goodbye to the snake, but it seemed it had already fled. How I wish I could do the same right about now.  
  
He rejoined his uncle as slowly as possible, knowing only too well that the punishment would be strong. Once Harry was back in the house, his Uncle Vernon looked somewhat calmer, as if he had placed Anti-Magic Locks all around his home and Harry could do him no harm there.  
  
"I thought they had rules in this bloody school of yours against - doing what you people do- during the summer." Vernon said, squinting his eyes malevolently.  
  
It was ridiculous what trouble the members of the Dursley household were ready to go through just to avoid saying the word "magic".  
  
"Yes, but they can't detect this sort of m-"  
  
"DON'T SAY IT!" Vernon shrieked, a very stricken look on his face. "You ungrateful little bastard! Maybe a few weeks in your old cupboard will humble you a bit, and make you realize how generous we've been to you all these years!"  
  
Oh my, yes. Now that you mention it, I do want to get on my knees and thank you profusely for your old socks and the tissue you gave me for my birthday. Wait, that was last year...  
  
"And while you're at it, maybe you can annihilate your abnormality!" his uncle added.  
  
He grabbed Harry by the collar and gruffly dragged him to the cupboard. Harry knew that resistance was futile, but he didn't want to make his uncle's task too easy either. When they reached the door to Harry's tiny old dwelling, Vernon eyed him menacingly and said:  
  
"Now you get in there, and STAY THERE! No more outdoor games for you, you- you... ruffian!"  
  
He threw Harry in and locked the door- with three different locks, it seemed.  
  
That might make it a tad more difficult for me to leave.  
  
Harry winced at the pain in his arm, which he got from colliding against the wall, thanks to his uncle's surprisingly powerful shove. It seemed that his cupboard had shrunk considerably. Or perhaps he had grown. As he tried to get into a relatively comfortable position- as comfortable as he could get in here, which was not saying much- his thoughts drifted from Ginny, to the snake, to Ginny, to gardening.  
  
I guess this is not going to be a paid holiday.  
  
***  
  
Harry was staring at the ceiling of the cupboard. A beam of light emanating from a small light bulb outlined a heavy ray of dust and Harry coughed softly.Great, he was back to the starting point, back to the cupboard that was now too small for him. He couldn't even extend his legs fully, let alone stand up.  
  
Stupid snake, stupid conversation, stupid conversation with the snake. It wasn't even worth the punishment I got.  
  
His trunk was resting in the opposite corner of the cupboard and was full of his Hogwarts possessions. Harry figured that this was the only bright side to his condition. Not that books were his favorite companions, but at least they reminded him of Hogwarts. Just then Harry's niche shook violently as though victim of a powerful earthquake. Tiny spiders fell out of their cracks. Dust flew everywhere, and the light bulb, Harry's only source of light, blinked. After a few seconds of fluttering agony, it died. Harry was frantically gasping for air when the shaking stopped and he heard Dudley wailing, "MOMMY! I'm stuck again! Come help me!" The pounding started again, this time less violently.  
  
Of course... Harry's fat cousin was -once again- stuck in the stairs and desperately trying to extort himself from the grip the walls claimed over his huge body. Harry threw his head back in a fit of laughter and hit it against the very low ceiling of his cupboard. He could just imagine Dudley's evil piggy eyes and his wobbling chins in a frozen expression of distress. It was hilarious. Harry laughed until tears sprang from his eyes and leaked on his face. It was covered with the dust that had fallen from the ceiling, and the salty water left marks in the gray filth. Harry was still chuckling silently when light from the bulb filled the closet sized room again, revealing the damage created by the enlarged pig's frantic shaking. The spiders were slowly scuttling back to their original positions as all the dust trapped in the creases of the wood covered the entire cupboard with a gray veil.  
  
As Harry wiped the dust off his face, he thought he saw something shining in a corner. He brought his face closer to the glinting object, even though four years at Hogwarts had taught him never to bring your face close to an unknown object, and kneeled to take a closer look. He could distinguish the shiny metallic object hidden in one of the wood cracks. Intrigued, he examined the surface. It looked like a key. He furiously tried to pry the wooden board apart, hoping that this flimsy piece of metal would lead to something worth the trouble. Harry's perseverance got the better of the task and he found himself clutching the cool metal of a bronze key. He tried to make out the inscriptions engraved when the door swung open. Uncle Vernon's ugly head poked into the room. Harry hadn't even heard the Vernon unlock the door.  
  
" I need you to ... What are you holding?"  
  
Uncle Vernon grabbed the key from Harry's hands and examined it. He then let out a roar of laughter. " I was looking all over for this. Oh Petunia!" he called out. " I found the second key to the cupboard!"  
  
With that he started chuckling again, forgetting what exactly he needed Harry for. Vernon slammed the cupboard shut once more and left.  
  
Bloody Hell! Harry thought. That was stupid! I should have known better. He punched his pillow fiercely, lashing out all his anger on the poor headrest. The fury he knew to be locked up inside him was somewhat unleashed as he kept hitting his bed. However, he understood that should he grow too irate, he might lose control of that fury and then terrible things might happen. He sighed at the thought that his last way out of Privet Drive had vanished into the porky, greasy hands of Uncle Vernon.  
  
***  
  
A starry, twinkling night enveloped Privet Drive. Harry could hear the Dursleys' snores as clearly as though they shared the same room. Thank God we don't share the same room... A small hoot from outside caught Harry's attention.  
  
The owl clucked disapprovingly, much like Molly Weasley would when confronted with yet another of the twins' jokes. Harry's legs were starting to cramp up and he wanted more than anything to be outside, perhaps even on his Firebolt, splitting the airs of the night. The Dursleys had absolutely no right to lock him in this rotten cupboard for the rest of his life- it had already been at least two weeks! He felt anger surge and spread throughout his body once more. If only he had kept that bloody key. He watched the lock and focused all his will on that stupid obstacle that stood between him and the Wizarding World.  
  
The door swung open violently, nearly jumping out of its hinges.  
  
Wow! That was amazing.  
  
He would definitely have to focus on his weird abilities later. Right now though, there were other things to be done and very little time to accomplish them. Harry knew what his plans were going to be tonight. He snatched the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk back in the cupboard before heading towards the kitchen. Harry gobbled up all the food that would fit in his stomach, knowing very well that he wouldn't have a decent meal for the next few days. Once he was full, he decided he would write to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione so that they wouldn't worry about him not answering their letters. Harry quickly summarized the Parseltongue incident and the punishment he had received for it when another one of Hedwig's incessant hoots caught his attention.  
  
In his feverish rush he hadn't noticed that Hedwig had sneaked in by the open kitchen window to deliver her mail. He detached the letter carefully. Oddly enough, Hedwig was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts seal. It was from Dumbledore.  
  
Dear Harry. My operatives have informed me that it is as we feared: Voldemort is gaining power. Although the Ministry of Magic refuses to publicly acknowledge the grave crisis in which we stand, the majority of the wizarding world has come to terms with the fact that the recent series of attacks signed by the Dark Mark are not the product of haphazard terrorists. Therefore, I must stress upon you once more that you will find no safer protection than Privet Drive. You will stay there until you return to Hogwarts. Please do not lose sleep over Voldemort's return; and do not try to get involved in any way. You shall remain under your Aunt and Uncle's care until August 31st, when the Grangers will come pick you up, as well as your belongings. They have told me that they would be delighted to take you and Hermione shopping for your school supplies. You shall spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron. I have already reserved room 3 for you and installed the necessary protections wards for your safety. I do not wish to startle you but these measures are, I am afraid, unavoidable. Yours sincerely, Albus Dumbledore  
  
Harry sighed. How was it that Dumbledore always knew what went through his mind? Technically he wasn't planning to run away tonight, just getting ready for the very near future. He might as well do something about the snoring coming from Dudley's bedroom now that he was up and about - not to mention, invisible.  
  
A sly grin swept across his face as he made his way up the stairs, automatically jumping the step that creaked. If he was going to spend every day locked in his cupboard hearing Dudley's insufferable shrieks, he might as well start making the big oaf afraid of "The Great Harry Potter"...  
  
He made sure that the Invisibility Cloak covered the totality of his body and snuck into Dudley's bedroom. There he was, sucking on his fat thumb like an oversized cherub. Harry felt sharp pangs of jealousy as he observed the peaceful look on his cousin's face. Dudley had no dreams to torment his rest, no visions of his dead parents, no Dark Evil Overlord out to get his blood. How very lucky this serene sleeping teenager was. Even though Harry had come here to taunt his cousin, and eventually make him pay for all those times he had pushed scrawny, bespectacled Harry down the staircase, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. It would have been morally wrong and he knew it. Instead, Harry found himself closing the door softly and going down the stairs. Luckily for Dudley, Harry wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing.  
  
As he reached the landing, Harry found himself inexplicably drawn towards the garden. A cool breeze played with his hair upon his arrival in the garden. It wasn't even remotely annoying, but smooth and soft and distinctive of summer nights. What a relief it was for Harry to be able to breathe in some fresh air, after staying cooped up in his cupboard for- how long has it been? Harry calculated quickly. Only 14 days? It seemed like a lot more.  
  
The grass gently tickled his bare feet and he enjoyed simply being outside, staring in fascination at the twinkling stars and the bright, round moon. His eyes moved down to the flowerbeds. The once-beautiful flowers were now unkempt, and intertwined with numerous weeds that were threatening to overtake them at a moment's notice. In fact, one of the weeds, which seemed longer and shinier than the rest, was moving right now, crushing the petunias as it went along.  
  
Hold up... Weeds don't move.  
  
He squinted hard, all senses sharp and alert. The shape approached him at an alarming speed, and Harry's mind became foggy with weariness and crazy ideas about Ashwinders coming to set his house on fire.  
  
Wait a second. Ashwinders are serpents. I know who this is!  
  
"We meet again. Sssorry about that other time. I did not mean to leave in sssuch a hurry, but you seemed to be- otherwise occupied."  
  
A turmoil of ridiculous thoughts rolled through Harry's confused and tired brain. The snake hardly seemed to mind that Harry had yet to respond to him. It was waiting patiently. In fact, it did not seem to be moving at all.  
  
That's pretty creepy.  
  
Just as this occurred to Harry, the snake started having wild convulsions, and it was rolling about as if it was being electrocuted.  
  
The serpent is having a fit! It's epileptic! I have to call the ambulance!  
  
And tell them what, that your snake is shaking?  
  
He didn't even have to do that, because all of a sudden, the serpent stopped trembling. It was unusually bright, its color turning from bright green to pearl white. It was surrounded by a halo of light, as if glowing from within. Only it wasn't. The moon had, for some unfathomable reason -for Harry, that is- focused all its lighting power on that small snake. In fact, Harry could not take his eyes away from the iridescent animal. He felt completely mesmerized by this amazing display of -there was no other word for it- magic. He was but dimly aware of his surroundings, and they became more and more blurry as he unknowingly focused all his attention on the serpent.  
  
Harry was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, yet fascinated, in front of this ensemble of particularly strange conditions. Before he could move an inch, however, the small snake started hissing in a very mechanical and metallic voice, "An old dream and new friend shall merge as one She from the land of the Prophecy Will unite with an enemy's son Your quest for knowledge shall make you see That earth, wind, fire and water Will be linked for the better."  
  
Before Harry could completely process what was going on, it all stopped. The moon shone normally once again, the snake had disappeared and there was no sign of it anywhere. Perhaps he had dreamed it all.  
  
But it seemed so real...  
  
He decided to get back to his bed and let peaceful slumber be his counselor. Heading back to his cupboard, he passed in front of the kitchen clock, which indicated 12:02.  
  
If it did happen, the prophecy -was it even a prophecy?- was probably issued at exactly midnight.  
  
That's something to think about... Maybe I should ask Hermione. She'll know, were his last thoughts before he dropped off from exhaustion. 


	4. Chapter 3

Love, Hate and Friendship  
  
"Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It's not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of  
friendship, you really haven't learned anything."  
  
-Muhammad Ali  
  
The following morning, Harry woke up to a throbbing headache. A loud bang from the kitchen made his head jerk up, sending a sharp pain through the back of said head and telling him two things - first, that probably a previous banging was the reason for his waking up, and second, that you shouldn't drink so much (butterbeer? he asked himself) if next morning a racket in the kitchen wakes you prematurely ... He winced as the pain rapidly made its way up his spine, contributing to his growing migraine.  
  
Ouch. Bad idea. Since when did the world become so. loud? And I didn't drink yesterday! What's happening?  
  
It seemed as though all his senses had been heightened overnight. The overly pungent smells of breakfast ensnared his mind and his stomach growled loudly, and Dudley's breathing almost made him think that speeding air jets were passing overhead. The tiny light emerging from the outline of the door almost blinded Harry, and he wondered for a fleeting instant if a supernova had just crashed into Privet Drive. He was still in his cupboard, yet could perceive everything in the kitchen so clearly that he felt as though he was there.  
  
He had no idea what was happening and his brain was so busy taking in all this additional information that he didn't try to figure out what this meant, lest his brain turn to mush.  
  
Where is Hermione when you need her?  
  
An alarm went off in his head - although he wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't the microwave. The same thought had occurred to him before.  
  
Why did I need Hermione the first time?  
  
A sense of foreboding seized him, as if he were watching a thirty-foot wave build up, frozen before it, unable to move or utter a word.  
  
All of a sudden, the mind wave crashed and all the memories rushed back to his brain like speeding bullets to his skull. Harry nearly passed out from the pain and from the shock- both physical and emotional. He sat still and tried to make them all go away, or at least a portion of them, because his head was buzzing and felt heavy with the burden of these memories.  
  
And the memories did just that. They trickled from his brain, slowly but surely, like water from cupped hands. He was jolted from his appeasement by a sudden thought. He needed these memories. They were of a most crucial nature.  
  
I need to keep these memories! No. write them down! Quick, a parchment, a quill, anything!  
  
Harry scrambled furiously for something to write on, and after a moment of frantic searching, he finally came across a bit of parchment. He quickly jotted down a few notes, careful to keep it to the bare minimum:  
  
"Snake - trance - moonlight - glowing - midnight? - weird voice - prophecy? Your quest for knowledge shall make you see That earth, wind, fire and water Will be linked"  
  
He quickly reviewed them and knew that something was definitely missing. Had the prophecy been that short? He was surely missing the better part of it. He groaned as he thought of the possible consequences of this particular forgetfulness.  
  
Let's just cross our fingers and hope for the best.  
  
He smiled as the Chudley Cannons motto crossed his mind and made him think of Ron, and his room overflowing with orange, bright, vibrant orange.  
  
Ouch. Now it hurts my eyes just to think about light. When will the madness end?  
  
But he realized that he had managed to subdue his sharper senses just a little bit - either that or he had gotten used to them now. He was still frightfully aware of everything that was going on in the house, thanks to his freakishly good ears. He heard Aunt Petunia's heels click on the floor as she crossed the kitchen. He heard her open the fridge door and pour herself a glass of something - he had no way of knowing what exactly, as he didn't usually make a hobby of finding out what noise the different kinds of liquids made. Aunt Petunia's shrill cry of: "Anybody else want water?" made him reach up to cover his ears. Just when he thought the storm was over, he simultaneously heard Dudley's and Uncle Vernon's affirmative replies and the blaring of the radio, which someone had just turned on.  
  
".and you can expect downpours all throughout the day. Now, for a little musical interlude, one of Earth, Wind & Fire's greatest hits."  
  
Oh no, not a song! Please not a song!  
  
He focused all his willpower on returning his senses back to their usual capabilities. Suddenly, he felt a tremor course through him and sat still in wonder when it started working. He was doing more wandless magic! His powers must be growing. He had never been able to do that much wandless magic before, and even when he had, it had been in life-or-death situations. In fact, he was ready to bet all his Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans -which was a pretty safe bet, since he had none at the moment- that he had just performed quite advanced MediWizard magic.  
  
Well, at least now I can only faintly hear that stupid song on the radio. What kind of name is "Earth, Wind and Fire" anyway? All they need is water and they have all the elements.  
  
He gasped as realization dawned upon him. Aunt Petunia was pouring herself a glass of water. The prophecy! He looked down at the piece of parchment in his hands, and grew very irritated.  
  
So that's what the snake meant by "Your quest for knowledge shall make you see/ That earth, wind, fire and water/ Will be linked!" I can't believe this. And I thought that it was an actual noteworthy, serious prophecy! It's all a load of dung.as usual. And I was trying to preserve the memories! He scoffed. The rest of the prophecy was probably a notification that I will tie my shoelaces somewhere in the near future.You can't get more useful or more enlightening than that! Well, thank Merlin for Seers everywhere!  
  
He fumbled with his pillow as he grumbled to himself, still angry about the fact that this mysterious prophecy wasn't important after all.  
  
***  
  
The following week passed by, utterly uneventful. Dumbledore had convinced Sirius not to come and get his godson out of the Dursleys' house. Besides, Harry felt like he would not be able to hide his torment from his godfather, and he figured Sirius had other things to worry about, or he would gladly have been rescued. Indeed, the prophecy issued by the snake occupied his mind just as much as Ginny had the previous weeks. Speaking of Ginny, Harry still couldn't explain the sudden not-so-brotherly and no- longer-platonic affection he felt for her.  
  
I guess it was simply because I hadn't seen a girl for so long, Harry finally concluded after minutes of deliberation on his crush.  
  
Yeah right.  
  
How else could he justify the way he totally forgot about Cho? After all, didn't he use to think that she was the most beautiful girl at school? He figured that he should wait until the start of the new school term to see if his hormones went wild on Cho, too, or if that privilege was reserved to Ginny.  
  
Maybe I should tell Ginny about the snake prophecy, he thought for the millionth time.  
  
Maybe telling Ginny about such rubbish wasn't such a good idea after all. Or was it really rubbish? Had he dreamt the whole thing up? Of course I did, Harry tried to convince himself. Or did I? In any case, it's a bad idea to tell her about it. Not in a letter anyway. The risks of Voldemort's followers falling on my correspondence to Ginny would probably have unwanted consequences.  
  
What about the Parseltongue code?  
  
True, Harry could use that to write to Ginny. However, when he tried explaining what had happened, he found out he simply couldn't. The words he managed to scribble on the parchment were either too strong for what had happened or too silly. It all seemed foolish anyhow, at least written on paper. Harry figured that he would simply have to tell her when he saw her on September 1st - that was, if his Uncle actually let him go back to Hogwarts in time.  
  
He was brooding over his situation when the violent screeches of the door literally made him jump from his bed. They were not nearly as horrible as Uncle Vernon's face as he passed his head into the cupboard. He seemed enraged at the idea of letting Harry out of his dwelling, yet didn't explain the reasons for inviting Harry to breakfast.  
  
Oh well, maybe I'll get something else to eat than dried raisins and three- days-old bacon.  
  
Harry quickly changed and hurried to the kitchen, hoping that Dudley had left some food for him. He sighed with happiness at the sight of the bacon, sausages, eggs and basket of fruits on the table. When he finally sat down, his plate filled with enough victuals for an entire regiment, he noticed that his aunt and uncle were quite silent -strangely, they seemed neither angry nor displeased, just neutral. Dudley kept engulfing his breakfast noisily. Harry wondered what was happening. He began eating, surprised that his aunt actually let him eat so much. As soon as he had eaten two toasts, though, Aunt Petunia seized the plate and gave her nephew a look indicating he would have no more breakfast.  
  
"The Grangers called," Uncle Vernon began, sure he had Harry's attention now that his nephew wasn't eating anymore.  
  
Oh. That explains why you brought me up here: so they wouldn't have the impression that you are starving me. A little late, perhaps. Anyway, when are they coming to pick me up?  
  
Harry was about to voice this last thought, when Uncle Vernon preceded him by answering that precise question:  
  
"They asked me if they could come and get you today, since it is my understanding you start school in three days."  
  
"Tomorrow, actually," Harry corrected his uncle. He had been counting.  
  
"Yes, well, that isn't the problem. Now, your aunt and I have decided to let you go and buy your school supplies, as we do not want your godfather," Uncle Vernon's face managed to remain composed and calm, although his effort was quite evident, "to think that we are actually keeping you prisoner."  
  
Again, a little late. They all know you treat me like a slave, but they just think I'm safer around you than back in the wizarding world. If only you knew they actually rely on you to keep me safe.  
  
"Now finish up your breakfast," Aunt Petunia sneered.  
  
The two minuscule toasts you left in my plate are already in my stomach, thank you very much.  
  
Aunt Petunia commanded Harry to sit down in the living room while he was waiting for the Grangers. She was pleased to finally meet parents of Harry's friends who actually were Muggles. In her mind, the Grangers had to be ashamed of their daughter's magical abilities. Thus she expected a glorious day, marked by unending and spiteful comments she and Mrs. Granger would make about the wizarding world. Little did she know that the Grangers had a very different point of view about magic.  
  
Uncle Vernon left for work, quite sure his beloved wife and son would be safe among non-magical people. Dudley, however, couldn't have cared less about the fact the Grangers were Muggles: they were dentists, and that terrified him, as he knew the last time he had brushed his teeth was. Well, a very, very long time ago.  
  
Harry had been staring at the clock for a half hour when the doorbell finally rang. Aunt Petunia refused to let him go back to his cupboard -imagine that!- as she was afraid he might get dirty and give a bad image of the way he was treated at her house. She planned on impressing the Grangers, so she had prepared tea and biscuits -at ten in the morning- for them. Upon hearing the door bell, she ran to open the door for her guests. Harry stood up to greet the Grangers in his not-so-cozy-nor-welcoming house.  
  
"Good morning, Mrs. Granger, " Aunt Petunia purred to the woman standing in the doorway. " Hello, Hermione, " she added, slightly haughty all of a sudden. As she gave the mother and the daughter a more observant look, she soon realized she would never be able to impress such distinguished and refined people.  
  
"Good morning, Mrs. Dursley. Harry, I'm pleased to meet you," Mrs. Granger said as she briefly shook Petunia's hand and smiled broadly at Harry.  
  
Harry's aunt wondered how dentists could actually be so classy. Mrs. Granger's hair fell in superb locks around her face and down her back. She wore a honey yellow summer dress and the yellow ribbon around her small straw hat matched her dress and lessened the formality of her allure. She was a beautiful woman for her age although a bit intimidating. Harry was reassured by the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, it gave her a more maternal and comforting look. As for Hermione, Harry was surprised to see her looking so stylish, especially in such an unimportant occasion. Her black jeans fitted her extremely well, contouring the curves of her legs, and the white, slightly transparent shirt she wore opened on an Egyptian pendant made of silver. Her hair, though, was completely wild, but had lost most of its bushiness -probably after a painfully long brushing. Hermione beamed at Harry, then politely saluted Petunia Dursley.  
  
"Come in, my dear, I just happened to be preparing some tea and I thought perhaps you could join me - I mean, us," she promptly corrected.  
  
"That is extremely nice of you," Mrs. Granger answered rather flatly, "but we should be hurrying up if we want Harry and Hermione to get as much time as possible at Diagon Alley."  
  
"Ah, yes, of course. That place for wizards only... Tell me, it must have been quite dramatic for you to learn you had a witch in your family. I mean, your own daughter?" Petunia ventured.  
  
"Actually," Mrs. Granger said coldly, "my husband and I were delighted to learn that Hermione was a witch, and we're terribly proud of her. "  
  
She gave her daughter a warm smile and squeezed her hand. Petunia immediately forgot about the great time she was going to have calumniating wizards, and hinted not so politely that the Grangers and Harry should leave soon. She nearly shooed them out of the house, and turned green with envy when she saw the Grangers' gorgeous BMW stationed out front.  
  
"I'll see you, " Harry started.  
  
"Don't even bother, Harry," Hermione told him.  
  
His aunt had already closed the door and begun shrieking about how dentists could buy themselves such a luxurious car.  
  
He stared at Hermione, shocked, when she began unbuttoning her shirt.  
  
"I have something under, you idiot! I just didn't want your aunt to think I'm an exhibitionist or some kind of hooligan."  
  
In that case, it was fine for Harry. Besides, the one strap black top she wore looked great on her, and despite the fact that he truly liked either Ginny or Cho, he wouldn't have missed this sight for quite an amount of Galleons.  
  
Neither would Ron, he thought, laughing. His friend would definitely go crazy when he saw her looking so pretty -or was it sexy?  
  
"I am so sorry we didn't come to pick you earlier, dear," Mrs. Granger said. "We got lost on our way here, the houses all look alike in this neighborhood. "  
  
"Well, thank you for coming to get me anyway, Mrs. Granger."  
  
"Call me Helen. Yes, indeed, you seem quite relieved to be away from your relatives."  
  
"And out of that bloody cupboard " Harry couldn't help but blurt out.  
  
" Yes, no wonder. She looks even worse than the way you had depicted her -and that's saying something," Hermione commented.  
  
"She is. But you haven't seen Uncle Vernon, or worse, Dud."  
  
"Okay, you will have time to chat about all this in the car, " Mrs. Granger interrupted. " I don't want to rush you, but I meant what I told your aunt, Harry. I want you to have a good and long time at Diagon Alley this afternoon, as I believe tomorrow you will be leaving quite early. "  
  
As they headed towards the vehicle, Mr. Granger got out of the car to greet Harry. He was of average size, with curly black hair and brown eyes. His handshake was firm and welcoming, and his smile revealed to Harry from whom Hermione had inherited her rather large front teeth. Harry was surprised to find Hermione's parents so friendly, as he thought that dentists usually looked stern and sterilized, no matter whose parents' they were. Hermione's dad lifted up Harry's trunk, which Petunia had abandoned shamelessly at the doorway. They all got back into the car and left for London.  
  
"We received the list of your school supplies a few days ago, with this," Hermione showed Harry a piece of parchment, but didn't leave him the time to read. "Harry, we're prefects! Both of us! I'm so happy!"  
  
Harry couldn't say anything. He was stunned. He knew - everybody knew - Hermione would be a prefect, but him? With all the rules he had broken, and Dumbledore knowing it? It was hard to believe. Yet if it was on the letter, well.  
  
"Yeah, that is great. Congratulations."  
  
"Thank you! Congratulations to you too! Well, anyway, take a look at the list of books you're going to have to buy, so that you can get an idea of the mountains of Galleons you'll be spending. That list is incredibly long. Not that I mind, of course, " Hermione finished.  
  
Indeed, the books required were numerous. Harry quickly read the list, horrified by the five volumes of The Entire Pocket Guide to Divination, by Lachesis Clotho he had to buy.  
  
They should specify it's probably for people with large pockets.  
  
What had gotten into him the day he chose Divination class ? Probably the harmful influence of some stupid planet in a stupid house. Nonetheless, these books were going to be horribly heavy in his school bag - and would make his purse much lighter. Harry sighed. He felt so uncomfortable about exhibiting all the money his parents had left him, especially in front of Ron. Luckily, Hermione would be exchanging Muggle money while he went to retrieve the amount he needed.  
  
Hermione seemed to have calmed down, and sat silently, her eyes closed and forehead pressed against the window. Harry suddenly noticed that she was wearing make-up. However, she clearly had had trouble putting it on, as the black lines under her eyes were too thick and too long. Not that Harry was an expert in makeup or anything, but this made his friend look quite different - not to mention strange. Could it be that the studious and self- assured Hermione Harry knew was trying to seduce someone? Harry began examining all the available guys she knew, and that kept him busy until they arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron a little while later.  
  
***  
  
"Hermione darling, we're going to drop you off here, okay?" said Mrs. Granger in a concerned tone.  
  
"I'll be fine mum, don't worry, I guess I'll see you at the end of the year then," replied Hermione as she looked up at her parents with tears in her eyes.  
  
Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron to give Hermione some space for bidding farewell to her parents. He tried to ignore the pangs of jealousy stabbing at his heart. Sometimes he wished that the Dursleys could like him, could be a sort of foster family for him. He tried to picture them bawling their eyes out at the thought of him leaving, and ended up laughing outright, which made most of the people in the pub stop and stare at him. Harry tried to disguise his laughter as a hacking cough and took a seat at the bar, silently taking in the scenery as he waited for Hermione.  
  
The Leaky Cauldron looked the same as he last remembered. A shabby-looking pub full of shady crowds - a group of women huddled in a corner were drinking small glasses of sherry, old toothless wizards in dirty robes smoked long pipes, and one very odd- looking dwarf stared very steadily in Harry's direction. Harry flattened his bangs nervously, hoping to conceal his scar so that he wouldn't attract too much attention. He glanced towards Tom, who nodded. The bartender, with a swish of his wand, levitated Harry's trunk, and guided him up the wooden staircase to his room.  
  
"If you'll follow me, Mr. Potter. Albus Dumbledore secured the wards on this room personally." Tom handed Harry the brass key. "Only you can open it from now until September 1st. Very well then, I have business to attend to. I'll just be going now. I trust you have everything you need?"  
  
"Er- yes sir, I think so."  
  
"Well, if there's anything you need, Mr. Potter, don't hesitate to ask." The bald bartender gave a short bow and went back down the stairs.  
  
Harry turned to look at the room. It was much like room 11 two years ago - polished oak furniture, a comfortable bed and a roaring fire blazing in the chimney. He shoved his trunk in the magically enlarged wardrobe and was going to settle down on his bed when a sharp knock on the door reminded him that he had left Hermione to her own devices.  
  
Sure enough she was there, on the doorstep, looking at that moment very much like the bossy and bushy- haired girl he had met on the Hogwarts Express, with her wide eyes and know-it-all expression. There were glistening tear streaks on her cheeks, and she had tied her hair in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Somehow she always managed to retain that self-assured air of hers, even when she let out in a timid voice, "May I come in?"  
  
"Of course, Hermione."  
  
She trotted miserably over to the bed, plopped herself on the side and started crying softly on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, hugging her a bit more awkwardly than he would have liked. Harry was only able to perceive muffled and incomprehensible explanations. She seemed exhausted. Harry knew that she was very worried about her parents' safety, as her family had become a target for Death Eaters. After a while she fell asleep, curled up on the corner of the springy bed.  
  
Harry stood up as silently as possible and tiptoed out of the room. He had decided to go down to Diagon Alley and browse a bit until Ron and Ginny arrived.  
  
He never ceased to be amazed by the wizarding world. Everything seemed to be held up by magic - And it probably is, he thought with a smile. The sinuous streets were crowded by houses that looked much like The Burrow, lopsided and homely. The alleys were overflowing with little shops full of intriguing devices, such as revealers, put-outers, sneakoscopes, secrecy sensors, and so forth. There even was something that looked like a clear glass egg, which would swirl with purple clouds and defend its bearer against all dark creatures. What amused Harry most was the new store, 'Mad Muggles' Magical Cavern'. This store sold solely Muggle artifacts, plugs, batteries, headphones, lamps, and CDs. Wizards' imagination was impressive. They claimed that the CDs were rainbow-makers. Harry was startled to see a pair of redheads bending over the CDs in awe.  
  
" D'you reckon Dad would like these new artifacts ?"  
  
"Ron! Ginny!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny flung herself in his arms.  
  
For a fleeting second, Harry forgot how to breathe.  
  
Inhale, Exhale. now repeat as needed.  
  
He could only think that Ginny Weasley was in his arms. Ginny was hugging him. He could feel her silky hair brush his cheek, he could smell her light, balmy scent. Then the moment was gone. A flushing Ron was trying to extract his "baby sister" from his best friend's tight embrace.  
  
Harry glared evilly at his so-called friend, before patting him gingerly on the back.  
  
It is Ron's sister, he has a right to protect her. Sort of.  
  
An uneasy silence settled between them and Ginny, anxious to break the tension, asked, "Oh, Harry, did you see Hermione? I thought her parents would bring you here."  
  
"She's in my room at the Leaky Cauldron. She fell asleep in my bed and she was exhausted so I let her sleep a bit. Let's go wake her up."  
  
They found Hermione sleeping peacefully on Harry's bed, a wave of sleep- dampened frizz surrounding her face. She had plopped off her shoes and her robes for comfort. They could see she was wearing Muggle jeans and the sexy black top.  
  
Ron tensed immediately. He stared at the heap of robes on the floor, then at Harry. Ginny saw her brother's jaw clench and his hands form into fists.  
  
"Harry James Potter," he growled low and menacingly.  
  
"Er- yeah?" Harry asked innocently. He winked at Ginny who was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable.  
  
"What in Bloody Merlin's name happened between you two?!" Ron shouted, his ears turning red with anger.  
  
Before he could continue his tirade, Hermione began languorously stretching out and yawned.  
  
"Ron, Ginny? What are you doing here?" she mumbled. "Oh! Harry I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep in your bed."  
  
Upon saying this, she sat upright on the bed, staring at her three friends. She noticed Ron's furious look and the pile of robes on the floor; and felt her cheeks grow hot.  
  
Ron took her blushing as guilty proof.  
  
"You really keep on disappointing me you know," he said softly before leaving the room.  
  
"What in Merlin's name was that about?" Ginny asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled in the room.  
  
Hermione and Harry just looked startled. That was a very uncharacteristic move for Ron. Harry had expected Ron to blow up at them, throw a fit of jealous rage and then sulk in a corner, but not to be so resigned. He seemed to have aged an eternity, his eyes were imprinted with maturity and Harry was sure that every trace of Weasley flare and temper had left Ron's soul.  
  
"I have to go after him," Harry said.  
  
"No! Let me. I should go talk to him," Hermione offered, looking very determined. She dashed out of the room, hoping to find him.  
  
"I really didn't mean to hurt him," Harry said silently.  
  
Ginny barely heard Hermione leaving and Harry's comment as she felt her head was about to explode with horrible thoughts. Nothing happened, she repeated over and over. She couldn't help but think that Ron had a point. She sighed. Why did it matter so much to her? After all, Hermione and Harry were allowed to be together if they liked each other. Yet Ginny had been under the impression that things had changed between her and Harry. She had been so stupid to think that Harry would ever consider her as anything more than his best friend's little sister.  
  
"Gin? Ginny!?"  
  
"Er- yes, what?"  
  
"I've been calling you for the past three minutes. Do you want to go to 'Florean Fortescues's Ice Cream Parlor'?"  
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
***  
  
Harry sat opposite of Ginny. He sneaked a glance at her while she was absorbed in the menu. She was so pretty. The sun made her red hair seem ablaze. Her eyelashes fluttered softly as she tried to pick out the perfect sundae.  
  
"The chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts sounds good, don't you think?" Ginny said, looking up. She caught Harry's stare on her and blushed. Harry averted his gaze, very aware that his cheeks were starting to burn.  
  
" Er- yeah, I'll take the same," Harry told the fairy that was hovering patiently over them. She took their orders then zoomed away, leaving a glittery shimmer around the couple.  
  
Harry fiddled nervously with the napkin, wondering why on earth it was so hard to talk to Ginny now that she was in front of him. She seemed to be equally nervous, as she kept twisting her hair.  
  
"So," she ventured courageously in an attempt to stir up conversation, "you said you talked to that garden snake right? Did it say anything interesting?"  
  
A sudden flow of memories invaded his thoughts. He could see the snake writhing in the dark grass, oozing a sort of pearly white light. Harry could vaguely recall the snake had said something about forces being reunited. If only he could remember. He was starting to feel dizzy.  
  
"Harry? Are you all right?" Ginny asked, genuinely worried. Her voice seemed so distant.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Headache, I think," said Harry, snapping back to reality. Ginny only knew about his first conversation with the snake. He hadn't told her yet about the would-be prophecy.  
  
Ginny pressed a concerned hand on Harry's own, sending a rush through his body. Her hand was cool and light on his. She brushed his hair softly out of his eyes with her free hand.  
  
"Are you sure Harry? You can tell me what happened."  
  
Harry gazed into her deep and concerned brown eyes.  
  
"I know, Ginny, I could tell you anything."  
  
Yeah, even though you couldn't spit out a full sentence three seconds ago, a sarcastic voice in the back of his head said.  
  
Ginny's mouth was less than an inch away from his; he could feel her hot breath mingle with his. She smelled like chocolate ice cream.  
  
On the other side of the street, Padma, Parvati and Lavender were cautiously observing the couple.  
  
"That's our cue to break up the love, ladies," ordered Lavender.  
  
Parvati promptly yelled out, "Harry! Wow, it's so good to see you!"  
  
The three girls rushed over and started fawning about how much he had grown and matured over the summer, making Harry blush scarlet and Ginny sulk on her chair.  
  
Harry scanned the streets for any sign of Ron and Hermione, Please let them come soon, please let them be in one piece. I don't think I can take this much longer. A sniggering Dean had come over to the table to "rescue" Ginny, who was more than happy to get away from Parvati, Padma and Lavender's snide remarks about her freckles and her shabby clothes.  
  
As for Harry, even though he expected his best friends, he was relieved to see Cho Chang, alone. Sighing with relief, he made his way out of the Ice Cream Parlor, ignoring Lavender's pleas of protests.  
  
"Cho! Cho, can I talk to you for a second?"  
  
She nodded her head listlessly.  
  
"Cho, I'm so sorry about Cedric, I never meant for anything to happen, it was a mistake, really it was, I had no idea that the Cup was a Portkey," Harry blurted out, before he lost his nerve.  
  
"I know, Harry. It's okay. I really don't blame you for anything that happened."  
  
Whatever Harry had expected, it certainly wasn't that answer. "Er- What? You mean you're not mad at me for insisting that Cedric take the cup with me, even though it was meant for me, and it was supposed to be a trap, and that Voldemort's rebirth is all my fault?" Harry was well aware of his incoherent babbling but couldn't find a way to keep his mouth shut.  
  
Cho let out a laugh. It was unlike any laugh Harry had heard. It was a throaty and rumbling laugh, like a soothing and entrancing music to his ears. For the first time since Voldemort's rebirth, he felt absolutely safe, in good hands and -was it, loved?  
  
"Harry, you're rambling," Cho said in a low and husky voice.  
  
"I know, I just can't seem to be able to shut up."  
  
A wicked grin crept on the girl's face. "You know what's the best way to make a guy shut up?" she said in an sweet, syrupy tone. And before Harry could answer, her lips were dangerously close to his mouth. Harry stiffened as he felt her lips brush softly across his.  
  
"Don't be afraid, I won't bite," she added softly.  
  
Her breath smelled like honey, her voice was so melodious, her eyes so deep. She laughed once more and Harry relaxed a bit.  
  
Her hands slid across his back small and soft, sending a trickle through his spine. He felt the urge to draw her mouth towards his. Once their lips met, Cho, sensing Harry's rush, traced her tongue loftily over his lips. Harry gasped against her mouth. He cupped her waist gently with a hand and intertwined the other in her smooth black hair. Then it seemed that she was trying to draw his breath, and that she was drinking him in, Harry felt his heart beat faster against her small frail body. He was suddenly aware that the hands on his back and neck weren't so soft anymore, it felt more like she was digging her nails into his skin. Harry groaned and she released the pressure a bit, she started nibbling and licking his lower lip as a thrill of excitement passed through his body. Slowly she moved her hands and cupped Harry's face, steadying the kiss and this time when her tongue flicked against his teeth and her lips softly sucked on his, Harry's world flipped upside down. His head was throbbing painfully and he was feeling very weak. As her kiss intensified even more, Harry found the need to part from her mouth. He let go of Cho, as though she had burned him. "Stop," he said, still gasping for breath. "I can't, I mean, I shouldn't." Harry leaned against the wall, finding that his knees were giving out. Cho, on the other hand, glowered. It seemed like a sort of power or heat emanated from her. "What do you mean, you can't, you mean, you shouldn't?" she asked mimicking his worn out and raspy voice. "I mean, it's wrong, I can't, you know, do this. I - I still feel guilty about Cedric's death, it would be wrong to kiss his girlfriend." As Harry said this he was feeling weaker by the second. He slid softly to the ground, his cloak scraping against the cold stonewall. Cho gave a cold, mirthless laugh. "Of course you feel guilty Harry, it's normal. You're the perfect little Gryffindor" She knelt down by his side, "But what I really want to see, is how long you stick to that motto. By the time I'm done, you'll be singing a whole different song, I assure you."  
  
She smiled cruelly, displaying a row of white sharp teeth. Her long black mane, flowing down her back, whipped around her face under a strong gust of wind. She soundly kissed him on the mouth once more, and stood up, agile as a cat, and left the alley they were in. As she left, Harry could still hear her melodious laugh echoing in his head.  
  
***  
  
"Harry? Are you sure you're okay?" asked Hermione as the charmed tape measurer floated around her, in 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'.  
  
"I still have some pepper up potion in my bag if you want," offered Ginny.  
  
"I already told you I'm fine!" replied Harry irritably. They were so annoying. Ginny and Hermione were smothering him in attention and right now, the only thing he wanted to do was go find Cho Chang and ask her what the hell her whole act meant.  
  
"But Harry, you really don't look f-" began Hermione.  
  
Ron, who had joined the group again a while ago, sensed that that he should get his friend away from the scene before Harry blew up. "Come on mate, let's go buy our potion ingredients. We'll come back later." With these words, Ron steered Harry away from the shop. Outside, Harry glanced over to his friend. After having talked with Hermione, Ron had apologized to everyone. Since then, he acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Maybe he was a bit more subdued than usual, but Harry figured that in a couple of hours Ron would be as good as new.  
  
'Slug and Jiggers Apothecary' reeked of old socks. There were marinating mandrakes in bubotuber juice. They created a sort of pus useful in quite a few potions, but it stunk horribly. Ron pinched his nose as he leaned over the counter to show the salesman the list of ingredients. Harry was carefully observing the contents of the jars lined up on the shelf. He saw a couple of very rare ingredients, very expensive, and dreadfully dangerous. Among others, Siren blood looked very dangerous he thought, but he was surprised to see some Essence of unicorn, contained in a pear-shaped jar. The foggy contents were swirling silver, and as the cloud moved they created unruly shapes pressing against their glass prison. Harry's methodical examination was broken as Ron poked him in the ribs and shoved all the needed ingredients into Harry's limp hands.  
  
"Out we go, Harry. The odors are making you dizzy."  
  
They made their way to 'Madame Malkins', once again, this time stopping at every store to purchase their school supplies. They picked up Hermione and Ginny, who refused to let them peak a look at the dresses they had bought.  
  
"I still have to buy some jewelry to go with the robes, but I think I'll find them later. Maybe at Hogsmeade?" Hermione said.  
  
"I'll go with you," Ginny offered. "I just hope I can afford what we'll find there."  
  
"Yeah well if you girls don't mind, let's go have lunch, because I am sick of all the fashion and I'd rather shop for food now," Ron complained.  
  
Well, now he's back to his old self, Harry thought as a grin spread across his face. He knew that Ron wasn't rancorous, but he had feared his friend might be angrier than usual after finding Hermione in his bed. Then again, their discussion probably had dispelled all misunderstandings. At least, Harry hoped so. He barely listened to Hermione and Ginny chatting and Ron's constant whining. His mind was still stuck on Cho. Cho kissing him, her lips on his, her tongue inside his mouth, her hair all around his face, his hands on her.  
  
Stop it! His mind commanded him.  
  
Harry knew he was turning red again, so he desperately tried to quit thinking about her. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Cho had left his mind. As he followed his friends, he recalled having explored this part of Diagon Alley two years back. He was delighted to see all the restaurants squished in a little street, sunnier than you might expect from its location.  
  
"Here we are! This is Digestion Alley," Ginny explained to Harry and Hermione, who were charmed by the place.  
  
"Seriously?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No, she's joking," Ron said. "It doesn't have a name, it's just part of Diagon Alley."  
  
Ginny looked very pleased with her joke, her eyes shining with amusement. Hermione laughed at her own gullibility and both boys joined them. They settled for brunch in the 'Dragon's Diner' that seemed like a pleasant, if not a bit somber, restaurant. Harry managed to remain incognito and they all enjoyed their meal -even though they received the food around two o'clock.  
  
When they finally got out of the Diner, they decided to go for a walk as they had already bought all their school supplies. They left bags and packets at the Leaky Cauldron, then went in search of a place to sit down and talk. Hermione found a little public garden and she and Ginny began chatting. Ron, immensely bored, asked Harry to throw him an abandoned Quaffle he had found so that he could train as a Keeper.  
  
As they played, Harry thought about how Ginny and Hermione suddenly became good friends. During the previous years, Ginny was left out of "the Gryffindor Gay Group" as Malfoy called Harry, Hermione, and Ron. How was it that she had gotten so friendly with Hermione, to the point of becoming her confidant? Maybe Hermione had realized that Ginny was no longer a little girl, or maybe she needed an ally in the Weasley household to help her win Ron's heart. Who knows. Girls are so complicated! Harry concluded as he allowed himself one last glance at them before concentrating fully on scoring against Ron.  
  
***  
  
Harry leaned against the pillar indicating platform nine. Hermione sat on the trolley, her eyes closed, checking her watch from time to time. She sighed.  
  
"I told you we shouldn't have arrived so early," Harry told her.  
  
"Yes, well I hadn't expected you to take so little time to get ready. When you're with Ron, we always arrive late, so this time I thought we should avoid having to run," Hermione explained, then waved at Padma and Parvati who headed toward platform nine and three quarters. They smiled and went through the wall.  
  
Harry and Hermione had been waiting for a half hour. They were supposed to meet the Weasleys at ten forty-five, and it was now five minutes to eleven. Hermione looked stressed out, and Harry was on the lookout for the Weasleys. Most of the Hogwarts students had passed before their eyes, the first-years shrieking excitedly at the sight of Harry's scar, the older students just observing him and Hermione - they expected to see a new couple some time soon.  
  
Most Muggle trains had left, and none were expected until fifteen minutes later, so the other platforms were practically empty, save for controllers. Hermione feared that the remaining Hogwarts students would have a hard time passing through the wall without being seen. However, most of the latecomers easily disappeared toward platform nine and three quarters.  
  
Cho arrived, dressed in a long jean skirt and ocean blue tank top. A pearl hung around her neck, and the belt she wore reminded Harry of a fisher's net. Her long, black hair was like water on her shoulders, with silvery and dark blue shadows playing on them. Somehow, she seemed like some sort of Asian goddess of the sea at that moment. He couldn't help but blush when she winked at him, but also noticed the evil glance she threw at Hermione. In a few graceful steps, Cho passed through the wall.  
  
"What was that about?" Hermione asked, quite shocked by the Ravenclaw's attitude.  
  
"I really don't know," Harry lied. "Maybe she remembers last year, when I asked her to the ball?" he added hopefully, praying that his friend would believe him.  
  
"Hum," Hermione simply murmured, not looking convinced at all. Suddenly, her face brightened, and she smiled as she rose to greet the Weasleys. Then she remembered they were late.  
  
"What took you so long?" she asked as she kissed Ginny on the cheek.  
  
"Oh, Ginny just couldn't decide what to wear so she made us wait for a half hour until she finally realized we'd be late," Ron snickered.  
  
"Actually, it was Ron who spent hours in the bathroom, wondering what way to part his hair and also locking the rest of us out," Ginny replied furiously.  
  
"The truth is," Fred began.  
  
"Never mind what the truth is," Hermione nearly screamed. "We only have two minutes left to board the train, so let's go."  
  
She grabbed Ginny by one arm, her trolley by the other, and they headed off toward platform nine and three quarters. Harry and Ron followed, nonchalantly discussing some fictive baseball game as they passed through the wall. Harry had brought up the subject and used baseball not to alarm surrounding Muggles, but when Ron commented that the Attacker should definitely not have used the base to hit the ball, Harry wondered if it had been such a good idea. It was then Fred's turn.  
  
George, the last one remaining, simply murmured before heading for the wall,"The truth is, both of you were preparing yourselves to look good for someone else."  
  
***  
  
The train left the instant they were all inside. Hermione sighed from relief, then dragged Harry toward the prefects' compartment.  
  
As Ron watched them leave, the corner of his mouth twitched. He didn't seem very happy about seeing his friends leave for the other side of the train, but he knew he wasn't allowed in the prefects' compartment - he had heard it from Percy so many times. George and Fred had already chosen a compartment, so he followed them there.  
  
Ginny gave a last look in the direction where Harry had gone. How she wished she could be a prefect the following year.  
  
*** Harry and Hermione tried to find some friends to sit with, but so far, they hadn't fallen upon the Gryffindor compartment. However, when Hermione had opened the door to what they had found to be the Ravenclaw compartment, Cho had seen Harry. Her eyes had shone like a cat's, and after she silently blew him a kiss, she languorously licked the tip of her fingers, one after the other. Harry was bright red with shame by the time he closed the Ravenclaw compartment door.  
  
Hermione could sense that Harry was tense, but she felt like this was between him and Cho. She wasn't so daft as to not see what was happening between them. She simply hoped this would soon be over, and that Ginny might never know. Harry followed her silently, still flushed with embarrassment.  
  
Hermione opened all the doors of the prefects' compartment, but there was no room for the latecomers. Finally, she opened the last door. A smile crept on her face, as she noticed it was empty. "Harry, this one is empty. We can take it," she told her friend.  
  
"What do you mean it's empty? Granger, do you need glasses as badly as you need new teeth?" Draco drawled from inside the compartment. Hermione was surprised not to have noticed that he was in there. She guessed that he was behind the door and quickly turned to Harry. "You know what, it's not empty. Let's just sit in the hallway. We'll be much more comfortable in the hallway than inside," Hermione snapped.  
  
"Oh no, don't mind Draco, please. Granger, come in," came a girl's voice.  
  
"Ew- Malfoy? With a girl? Let's get out of that bloody wagon!" Hermione exclaimed, to Harry's shock.  
  
A slim young woman came out of the compartment. She had straight, black hair, longer than Cho's and just as silky. It formed like a raven's wing in her back, and floated beautifully when she asked Hermione to come back in. Her eyes were of a luminous purple, looking like polished amethyst in the middle of her white and fine face. Hermione was surprised to see that she was really beautiful -what is she doing with Malfoy in an empty compartment? she wondered- but then she saw the Slytherin badge on her neat robes. Well, not all Slytherin girls have to be ugly, quite obviously. I suppose Bullstrode isn't a universal reference, Hermione thought, still unable to remember who that girl was.  
  
Harry came to her help. "Zabini, aren't you? Reserve Beater on the Slytherin team?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, that's me," the girl answered, a grin spreading on her face. It wasn't even an evil or taunting grin, it was just a smile. She didn't look like a Slytherin at all.  
  
"Look, Granger, Potter, come in. Draco is just being nasty. Besides, you can't spend the entire day sitting in the hallway. Just get in, we'll all mind our own business. Right, Draco?" Blaise asked, turning toward the compartment.  
  
A sigh and muffled insults came from the blond boy, still hidden from Hermione and Harry's view. Blaise stepped back and sat down next to Malfoy, regaining somewhat of a cold, if not disdainful, air. Hermione pulled her trunk inside the compartment, and Harry helped put it up. Finally, they sat down, and Hermione allowed herself to shoot a glance at Malfoy. She was horrified by what she saw: he was absolutely gorgeous! He had grown during the summer, and gotten some muscles too - probably from beating up his father's prisoners - which he proudly exhibited with his sleeves rolled up.  
  
His face had lost the boyish appearance it used to have, and he now looked like an arrogant archangel rather than an evil cherub. Hermione stared at the window when she met his cold gray eyes. She felt like she could almost see the frigid winds of the Antarctic swirling in them, the white and unmoving icebergs, the frozen glaciers and mirror-like waters, all this steel-hard superiority and cold arrogance condensed in them. By merely looking in his eyes, Hermione could see the immensity of the hate Draco bore for her.  
  
Harry felt very uncomfortable sitting in the same compartment as the stupid Ferret-Boy. He couldn't stand the way the blond Slytherin thought he was so superior and so handsome. The stupid git had the arrogance of a king, strutting about Hogwarts as though he owned the place. He kept on claiming to be the smartest wizard in the grade, and even though Malfoy's grades weren't half-bad, they didn't even compare to Hermione's academic achievements. Malfoy thought he was so witty with his snide remarks about " the mudblood, the weasel and the Potty" Harry seethed inwardly. How the hell did he get stuck in Malfoy's compartment for Merlin's sake!  
  
The food trolley's passage definitely didn't improve the mood in the compartment. Hermione, after a half hour of gazing out the window with a stupid smile plastered on her face, had pulled out an enormous book and already read half of it. Harry felt like he was falling asleep, but each time, the thought of Malfoy being near by discouraged him. Then he was entirely repulsed when Malfoy bought chocolate frogs, and began feeding them to Blaise, who didn't look nearly as friendly as she had before. Not that she was being mean to him or anything. She was just so lascivious, it was nauseating.  
  
"Let's eat those little frogs, à la francaise," Draco offered Blaise. He was holding one chocolate frog in his hand, making it swish before the girl's eyes.  
  
"Oh yes, I just love French. So sensual. Donne moi du chocolat, Draco," she purred.  
  
"Seulement si tu me donnes un baiser en échange," Draco said in a suave and playful voice. "Only if I get a kiss. One kiss, one frog," he grinned. "Un baiser, une gre-"  
  
"Oh please, get an other compartment. I am going to be sick!" Harry hollered.  
  
Blaise straightened up and threw Harry an evil glare. She passed her hand through her hair in a lustful gesture, which sent chills adown Harry's body.  
  
And to think she was flirting outrageously with Malfoy when she could have any other boy in Hogwarts.  
  
Wait, no, I mean: ew, that vixen!  
  
"Please tell me you aren't jealous because she gets a frog and you don't, Potter," Draco said, turning his steely look toward Harry. "Then I think I'm going to be sick," he added.  
  
"Shush, Draco. I think he's just embarrassed and uncomfortable because we're flirting in front of him. Aren't you, Potter?" Blaise inquired. "Because you do realize that I don't feel anything for Draco, except maybe that he's like a brother to me. But it's nothing like what you feel for, Granger, let's say," Hermione jerked her head up and Draco grimaced of disgust. "And you know, even if it will probably take you years to make a pass at someone, being a Gryffindor and all. No offense, of course, it doesn't mean that the rest of the world should stay as sickly and innocent as you." Blaise added, a sly grin on her face but her eyes indicating she wasn't being as sardonic as she appeared to be.  
  
Before Harry had the time to think of some kind of comeback, the compartment door opened and Ron's face and his very orange hair emerged from the hallway. "Oh there you are, I've been looking all over for you!" Ron said, with a smile for Harry and Hermione. His smile turned into a frown as he noticed who else was present.  
  
"Looking all over for me? That's really touching, Weasley, but how many times I gotta tell you that I'm not interested?" Malfoy interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Besides, now the whole Gryffindor Gay Group is reunited. Ladies and Gentlemen," he continued, turning to an imaginary audience, "I present you with: Potty, Weasel, aaaaaand the slutty ( sort of ) Mudblood! So tell me, Chipmunk, may I call you chipmunk? How did you manage to string Potty, Weasel and the Bulgarian Seeker with all that filthy blood you've got -- "  
  
"What did you just say?" Ron growled, a vein at his temple throbbing dangerously.  
  
"Can- you- understand -the-words-that-are-coming-out-of-my-mouth?" Draco replied, and turning to Blaise, added, "It's bloody fantastic, really. The whole lot's disabled. Weasel can't hear, the Mudblood can't see, and Potty's just mentally challenged, or 'special', as people like to call him."  
  
During this whole comment, Malfoy pointed to in turn, Ron, Hermione and Harry, acting as if they were not there or perhaps could not understand what he was saying. Blaise was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and wanted nothing more than to get out of there, but pretended to be interested in Malfoy's patronizing tone, all the while casting furtive glances at the other occupants' expressions.  
  
Harry and Hermione were watching the exchange, sitting at the edge of their seats, ready to jump into action if they had to. Harry was restraining himself from jumping on Malfoy and punching that stupid smirk of his, and Hermione was helping him and Ron by repeating her usual mantra, "Don't let him get to you. Just ignore him. He's not worth losing points over."  
  
Ron's patience finally reached its limit. He took off his robes, growing more enraged by the second as his arm got stuck in his sleeve, then declared, "Malfoy, I think the time has come for me to wipe that disgusting sneer off your face."  
  
"Really? And how are you going to do that? Strip for me? You're right, I think that might work. But then I'd have to spew all over your precious hamster here -Hermione, is it? - That might actually not bother her too much, since it's so much like her natural habitat. And besides her blo-"  
  
Before Malfoy could finish his sentence, Ron hurled himself at him, hollering swear words for all the train to hear. The fight quickly became violent as they threw punch after punch, and sometimes very nasty kicks. Their wands laid forgotten on the seats, this very Muggle way of fighting being much more satisfying to vent off some pent-up anger and hate. Before the floor could become a bloody mess, the three remaining prefects regained their senses and tried to tug the two culprits out of their tangled position on the floor. With a great heave, Harry and Hermione managed to pull Ron out of Malfoy's grasp, leaving Blaise to tend to him.  
  
Quick as a flash, Malfoy grabbed his wand and got up. The curse hit Ron before he even had a chance to realize what was happening. His nose elongated for an indeterminate period of time as Harry and Hermione watched in horror, and Malfoy doubled up in laughter. Ron's ears began to stretch as well, while his hands shrank and his eyes took up half of his face. His skin turned a greenish tint . Hermione and Harry were utterly still, their mouths agape, shock etched on their every feature. Seeing their expressions, Ron quickly glanced around to find the nearest mirror. When he observed his reflection in the compartment door, he squealed. He looked very much like a friend of Harry's. In fact, Ron's face looked exactly like.  
  
Dobby's.  
  
"What did you do to me, you sick bastard?!?!" Ron shrieked in a shrilly voice, making Malfoy erupt in laughter once again.  
  
"Well maybe now that you're a house-elf, Hamster'll finally go out with you!"  
  
"It's Hermione! Or Granger to you, and don't you dare curse my boyf-" Hermione started, scarlet with fury, and stopped herself when she saw Ron's shocked expression, Harry's amused one, and the surprise on Blaise and Malfoy's faces upon hearing this Freudian slip. She finished, "friend! Who is also a boy! Therefore he is my boy, " she left a big space before adding, "friend."  
  
Ron, who had been watching Hermione with a somewhat glazed expression, shook himself and said, "Er- right. Eat dung, Malfoy!" and then shot him a full body-bind. Malfoy barely managed to dodge it, because of the limited space in the compartment, and quickly uttered, "Tarantallegra!"  
  
As Ron tried to focus his aim and steady his legs to curse Malfoy once again, Hermione whispered to Harry, "Quick! We don't want to have another mixed-curses fiasco like last year! We need to cast curse-deflecting shields around ourselves. Remember, the one you learned from the Triwizard Tournament? I'll show Blaise how to do it, so we can try to break them up. I'm hoping she'll help us do so. All right, let's do it!"  
  
"Okay. But I don't remember if you can curse someone from this shield. or will it deflect it as well?" Harry asked.  
  
"No, you can curse people outside the shield but I don't want to see you aim any other spell than a Stunning, Disarming, or Full Body Bind at Malfoy! I know he's lower than scum and he deserves it, but we are prefects and we need to set a good example!"  
  
"Some example he's setting," grumbled Harry before saying, "Protego!".  
  
But before they could intervene, Ron and Malfoy had already sent a series of curses such as the Jelly-Legs Jinx, the Twitchy Ears Hex, the Fur Spell, the Horn Tongue Spell, Rictusempra and the Leek Curse, which were all bouncing around. Quite a few of them were deflected by Hermione's, Harry's and Blaise's shields, but most found their mark. The problem was, they had merged and thus created disastrous effects.  
  
"Oh this is just what I had feared! Don't you ever learn?" Hermione cried out in anguish.  
  
Not only did Ron look like a house-elf, he now had horns all of his face, which seemed to have occurred from a combination of the Horn Tongue Spell and Furnunculus. As for Malfoy, he was not a pretty sight either. He had received a mix of Twitchy Ears Hex, Jelly Legs Jinx and Fur Spell, coating him with a thick layer of furry tentacles, which kept twitching quite ridiculously.  
  
***  
  
The ride in the horseless carriages was as silent as the train ride had been before Ron's arrival. Harry and Hermione hesitated between laughing madly at Ron's new appearance and reprimanding him for his short temper. Nonetheless, all three were quite happy that Ron's spell had temporarily altered Malfoy's incredible good looks to make him look like an evil monster - which, down deep inside, he truly was. As the great castle of Hogwarts appeared behind the dark trees, all thoughts left Harry's mind, leaving room for only one word: home.  
  
It seemed strange that such a gigantic fortress, with its high and pointy towers, enormous walls, and impressive doors, should communicate such a feeling of welcoming and warmth. The sun had already disappeared behind the curvy line of the horizon a while ago, shaped by round hills and deep valleys. Hogwarts castle seemed inundated by dark blue and silver shades, in this moment between day and nighttime where time seems to slow down and moments become eternity.  
  
Eternity, then, was given to Harry to feel home. Even the compact mass of the forest and the icy tones of the water around the castle were friendly, as they were part of a place where Harry knew he was loved and protected. He could almost tell which window opened on which room and he thought he smelled the perfume of the upcoming feast as surely as he saw the castle lit up by thousands of lights. At this moment, somewhat frozen in an unsure time and stuck in the most unpredictable moment of the day, Harry knew that Hogwarts was a beacon for him (and most of the Wizarding world).  
  
Something was missing though. Harry strained his eyes and ears for the big familiar boulder crying out, "Firs' years this way!" but to no avail. Hagrid wasn't there.  
  
Harry had hoped to see him at the start of the new term and certainly hadn't thought that Hagrid would still be on his mission. Harry idly wondered who would be replacing his friend. He hoped it wouldn't be Grubbly- Plank. That witch was the exact opposite of Hagrid and would only make the Gamekeeper's hut emptier.  
  
****  
  
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	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:  
  
The newcomers  
  
"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will  
bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country."  
  
-Anais Nin, The Diaries of Anaïs Nin  
  
The great wooden doors swung open. Students swarmed into the Great Hall of Hogwarts to rejoin their tables. Within less than three minutes, all students had found a seat and were waiting for the things ahead - except, of course, the first-years, who represented the living part of the 'things ahead'. The warm air ruffled Harry's hair. He gladly welcomed the heat and the bizarre decoration of Hogwarts. The sky wasn't very different from past years - dark blue with golden stars and the shadows of night-birds passing from time to time. The enchanted floating candles diffused a soft light throughout the Great Hall. The glow emanating from the candles lit up Malfoy's very sullen-looking features, and Harry saw that he was escorted by a grim and tired-looking Snape. Harry suppressed a chuckle. Served Draco Malfoy right.  
  
Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table and cast a glance towards the staff. He was shocked to see Ron there. A second look told him - the person sitting there, between Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra, wasn't Ron. Yes, it was a Weasley for sure, with the unmistakable orange hair, but this particular Weasley listened to the name Charlie.  
  
Ron and the twins were floored.  
  
"Charlie! Why that- that...He hasn't mentioned anything all summer!" spluttered an outraged Ron.  
  
Ginny, on the other hand, didn't look the least bit surprised.  
  
"You mean he hasn't mentioned anything to you guys. I knew all along," she said with a vaguely taunting voice. "He secured the gamekeeper job as well as the Care of Magical Creatures one for as long as Hagrid is away. Charlie even said he might let the seventh years study real dragons on a field trip in Romania. Of course, that'll only be when Hagrid is back."  
  
The twins looked delighted. "Dragons. Awesome," mused George. "Remember when we visited him in Romania, and he let us ride the small one."  
  
Both twins sighed wistfully in unison.  
  
"I wish Bill were here though," Fred said.  
  
"Yeah, then it would be the Weasley kids complete. We would completely knock over Hogwarts!" George exclaimed suddenly, startling Hermione and making her knock over her impressive stack of books. She gave him a death glare and began picking up the books.  
  
"Bill said he might be coming for a special surprise, but he wouldn't tell me what it was," informed Ginny once more. "But even so, it wouldn't be the whole Weasley family. Percy wouldn't be here, you know."  
  
Ron snorted elegantly. "Yeah, we know, but who wants him here anyway, he just takes the fun out of everything."  
  
"Oh! Ron Weasley! You're just jealous of Percy's success and even though you'll never admit it, some part of you is definitely proud of him! I for one think it's a miracle he survived in this household with five obnoxious brothers keen on making him lose his mind!" Ginny was now properly flushed, displaying a very fine impression of the Weasley glare.  
  
A voice on Harry's left muttered, "She learned that look from Mum. She's been practicing on us all summer." Turning, Harry saw a very subdued George quailing under his younger sister's temper.  
  
"Well," retorted Hermione, "that just serves you right for practicing your stupid jokes on her all summer." Her voice came from close to the floor, because she was still busy looking for the last five volumes of Arithmancy.  
  
Fred and George were about to vindicate their innocence when Professor McGonagall entered, leading the first years into the Great Hall. Silence settled over the chatter. All the students were staring at the frightened and anxious-looking kids. Harry couldn't remember ever being so small.  
  
Ron voiced his thoughts, "Blimey, quite the midget batch, that one, isn't it!?"  
  
"Ron, be quiet!" scoffed Hermione.  
  
Harry noticed that Hannah Abbott was waving to a chubby first year with blond hair and pink cheeks. The boy looked like he was close to having a breakdown and kept fidgeting impatiently.  
  
At that moment professor McGonagall reappeared with the sorting hat in one hand and the three-legged stool in the other.  
  
Quite some time ago From thread and needle I was born To restrain the rivalry of the Foes, From destroying Hogwarts one fine morn. The task bestowed, Was to separate and sort The young minds of the future, Into the house of their founder Brave and courageous Gryffindor, Wise of heart, and fierce of soul, Would teach those with hearts of gold Smart Ravenclaw, Whose cleverness, was by far valued, Chose those of sharper mind. Mighty Slytherin, very shrewd Even lewd, was driven by sly ambition, Cunning and conniving would dictate his ways. In Hufflepuff, the kindest joined Solely in the name of loyalty and friendship Their strong hearts would sway, I am the sorting hat No dark deep secrets, you shall keep from me. I see all that you could ever be. So put me on, and I will tell you were you ought to be.  
  
"The songs keep on getting worse," despaired Seamus Finnigan. "Oi! See there, mate! That's me little sister, Sinead. She looks quite nervous, doesn't she?" He pointed out a little girl with light chestnut hair and freckles dusted across her face. Sinead's light blue eyes were framed by a pair of frowning eyebrows. She was biting her nails anxiously.  
  
"That's my fault I reckon," explained Seamus. "I told her she'd have to wrestle a troll. Dunno where the idea came from though." He winked cheekily at his sister, who was now glaring at him. A moment later, she resumed her nail-biting.  
  
"ABBOTT, Henri!" read Professor McGonagall.  
  
The chubby blond boy trotted nervously towards the three-legged stool. That's why he looks so much like Hannah, thought Harry.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF" clamored the hat through the brim opening.  
  
The boy looked relieved and sat down amidst clapping Hufflepuffs. Hannah planted a fat kiss on her brother's pink cheek and congratulated him warmheartedly.  
  
"CRISSKER, Steven," was the first Slytherin sorted. He had silvery blond hair and high cheekbones, and his eyes, deep into their sockets, gleamed with wickedness.  
  
"That's a surprise," Ron whispered in Harry's ear. "Here comes mini Malfoy."  
  
When Professor McGonagall called out, "FINNIGAN, Sinead!" Seamus, who had been biting persistently on the inside of his cheek, crossed his fingers and muttered, "Gryffindor, please let it be Gryffindor."  
  
The Sorting Hat did indeed yell out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Applause erupted from the Gryffindor table, but Seamus was the one clapping the hardest. He looked extremely pleased with his sister. Sinead squeezed herself between the clapping crowd and arched an eyebrow inquisitively towards her brother. "Troll?" she demanded, but then shrugged as her brother began laughing.  
  
Harry was getting bored. With some amusement, he noticed Ron's drooping eyelids. The students were all starving and exhausted. He barely heard McGonagall reciting the remaining names, nor did he notice that more and more Gryffindors were joining the table. He cast a glance at the teachers' table, suddenly remembering they would have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Noticing no new teacher other than Charlie, Harrry sadly concluded that Snape's long-standing wish had finally come true.  
  
Next moment, Harry gasped. A second later, he couldn't help thinking - hoping - that Snape had failed for at least another year. Because out of the shadows, a tall woman with curly black hair approached the teachers' table and sat down next to Dumbledore. She looked tired and weary, and older than when Harry had first seen her.  
  
The woman in his dream. Harry recognized her at once, despite the small changes. Immediately, his mind became more alert. If the woman was here, that meant her daughter was here too. He scanned the teachers' table, then the Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. However, since he naturally imagined her as a Gryffindor, he paid much more attention to the students seated at his own table. The girl wasn't there either.  
  
Harry tried to concentrate on the first years, and he was surprised to see a rather tall girl - compared to the other figures around her at least - with long, wavy hair, black like the ash-filled sky when a volcano erupts.  
  
Harry knew this girl. No - not really, but he knew this hair, in its own style as distinguishing as the Weasley trademark, and Harry felt safe to assume that this was the right girl. In his dream, he had only seen her from behind. He tried to see her face, but she was partly obscured by Professor McGonagall's dry and severe silhouette. He noticed the girl had her hand on a first year's shoulder. She was murmuring something in the girl's ear, who slightly calmed down. Harry turned his attention back to the Sorting, only waiting for the older girl to be sorted, since that was clearly what she was here for.  
  
"NORTHWORTHY, Edward." RAVENCLAW!  
  
"SECKROAD, Katrina." A girl with eyes as dark as her hair was made Slytherin and, to everyone's great surprise, her twin brother, "SECKROAD, Kyle," was proclaimed Gryffindor.  
  
Finally, the last first year, "VECTOR, Thalessa," was made Ravenclaw. A few people looked up at the staff table, wondering if there was any connection whatsoever between their Arithmancy teacher and the scrawny girl with thick- lensed glasses.  
  
After the first years were all sorted, only the girl with the black mane remained. She stood in the middle of the hall, probably looking at the professors' assembly, but indicating by no sign that she was impatient or stressed out. Harry wished she could turn to face the Gryffindor table, as he was positive she was the girl from his dream. He had seen the way she walked, the way her hair flowed around her when she moved, the way she stood erect and proud while advancing through the Great Hall. He only needed to see her face, to find out if she had seen death up front, and he would be certain that the girl, like her mother, had survived.  
  
Dumbledore stood up. The chatter in the Great Hall went quiet as the Headmaster indicated that he would speak. Harry hoped he would explain the arrival of a new student and waited expectantly. He barely noticed that most students were avid for explanations as he was, save for Hermione who eyed the raven-haired girl with affection.  
  
"It is wonderful to see so many familiar faces back at Hogwarts and new ones as well. It seems like you enjoyed your vacation, which is good, because a hard year awaits you. Indeed, you will understand soon enough," Dumbledore said, smiling but his eyes very serious. "Now, I imagine that with the boiling curiosity that is characteristic of your age, you are wondering who this new student could possibly be. She is not a first year, of course, and I suppose you could consider her an exchange student. Before any of you raise objections, I must assure you that yes, I know, there have never been any exchange students at Hogwarts. Let her be the first, and welcome her warmly. She spent her second, third and fourth year at Beauxbatons, but she also attended the Egyptian school of Ouadjet. Jawhara Beaupré, please proceed to the Sorting Hat. Your house will be determined."  
  
Her back still turned to the audience, the girl headed for the Hat, who woke up when she seized it and put it on her head. As Jawhara sat down and finally faced all four houses, Harry gasped. In fact, all the students, who hadn't paid attention to her when she had arrived with the first years, gasped. The girl's face was tanned and finely shaped, with voluptuous lips, a large forehead, thin nose and gigantic black eyes. However, dark shadows underlined her eyes and her cheeks were emaciated. Harry immediately recognized that look for having seen it in mirrors after he witnessed Cedric's murder: Jawhara had seen death, up front and probably too close. Harry paled, unnoticed, as he realized that his dream was true. He was glad, though, that the girl and her mother had survived. Jawhara closed her eyes, awaiting the Sorting Hat's verdict, and her face softened, appeased by the silence and darkness.  
  
Aaaah... Yes, I see... Yes, yes... The fourth one, are you not? Hum...uite interesting that you should join the others, after such a long time. Why now, and not before? Dark times have come and passed, yet it is only now that you are reunited. I wonder...  
  
Hum, I'm really sorry to interrupt, but, are you sorting me now?  
  
No, no, my dear, I'm just trying to figure this out. Oh well, I suppose the time will come where all is revealed. Now, about the house you're going to...  
  
Harry wondered what was taking the hat so long. The last time this happened was with Harry. But then again, he realized, he had missed the Sorting Ceremony of his second and third years, so maybe this occurred ever so often. He noticed that the girl was talking to the hat, as he had, and he paid even more attention.  
  
One thing is sure, I see immense intellectual potential. Yes, you are a brilliant young girl, and determined to get what you want, the way you want it. Serious, too, extremely proud, perhaps a bit arrogant when you dislike someone. Come to think of it, you have a tendency to be haughty which probably has and will earn you the enmity of a number of people. Ravenclaw would suit you perfectly.  
  
Sure, why not. But... What house is Hermione in?  
  
Hermione? Er... Oh, Granger? You know her, I bet. And you seem to like her. Ah, well, the choice was difficult with her too. I finally decided to put her in Gryffindor, because her loyalty to her friends -and homework as well- was a trait that would have gone unappreciated in Ravenclaw where their only loyalty is to themselves. She also has a quite noble passion, which is to always defend those who she deems treated unfairly. I was right, you see, because she, along with Potter and one of the Weasleys -ha, he was a surprise, that one- saved Hogwarts quite a number of times.  
  
Weasley? Doesn't he have a brother?  
  
Too many, yes. Well, if you know Granger and Weasley, I suppose... Besides, you are extremely loyal to those whom you love, I can tell. Too much, if I may say so, since you would rather be killed than betray a secret. In fact, it borders on chivalry. But then again, this is part of you personality, isn't it? Hum... Then I suppose your wit and chivalry, determination and perhaps what you have lived push me to put you in -GRYFFINDOR!  
  
Cheers and a thunder of applause erupted from the Gryffindor table. Jawhara gently put the Hat back on the stool and ran to the table, a huge smile spreading across her face. She passed the available seats fifth and sixth years offered her to finally throw herself in Hermione's arms.  
  
"Jawhara, this is great! I'm so happy!" Hermione screamed to be heard above the noise that reigned in the hall.  
  
"I know! I'm in Gryffindor with you! Mom must be so happy that I won't be alone," Jawhara said.  
  
The two girls laughed and kept doing so until they noticed the dumbfounded look on Harry, Ron and Ginny's faces. Hermione immediately realized she had kept Jawhara a secret, or at least, not mentioned too much information about her, as Dumbledore had demanded. She presented her "pen pal" to her friends.  
  
"Harry, Ron, Ginny, this is Jawhara, the girl I sort of spoke to you about. Jawhara, this is Harry Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley."  
  
Jawhara nodded toward the others. When looking at Ron, her eyes widened, and she said, "You have a brother, don't you? Bill?"  
  
"How do you know?" asked Ginny.  
  
"I think she met him in Egypt," answered Hermione instead. "As I was saying, I wasn't really able to tell you more, because it might have endangered her safety."  
  
Ron, still wondering about Jawhara's remark, frowned. "Safety?"  
  
"Yeah, safety. Death Eaters tried killing her, and her mother," Harry said in a morn voice.  
  
Ron's head spun around toward his friend. "What?"  
  
"How did you know?" asked Hermione and Jawhara in unison before Harry had even a chance to answer Ron's question. He came as far as opening his mouth when another Weasley gave the answer for him.  
  
"He saw it happen in a dream," said Ginny.  
  
Ron's head snapped back to stare at his sister. "How did you know?"  
  
Harry took the chance to return favor for favor, and to answer a question even if it wasn't asked to him. "I told her," he said.  
  
"And how," asked Jawhara with her eyes fixed on Harry's face, "did you know in the first place? Are you a Seer?"  
  
"No, I'm not." For the first time since the girl had arrived at their table, Harry could answer without someone else being quicker. "But the scar I received from Voldemort's curse when I was a baby links me to him. That's why if he's feeling particularly murderous or happy, or such strong emotions, I have visions concerning him and his actions or plans."  
  
Jawhara grew pensive, the intensity of her stare into Harry's face not fading the least bit.  
  
"Argh, this is so confusing," said Ron, putting his face in his hands. "Can anyone explain to me what happened? Slowly, please?"  
  
"Sure, I will," Jawhara volunteered. "It's quite simple, actually. You see, a few years ago, my dad was killed. I'll spare you the details. My mom and I left Egypt, thinking it wasn't safe anymore. So I attended Beauxbatons until last year, which was really great since I got to improve my French and know my dad's culture better."  
  
"Her father was French," Hermione piped in. Ron scowled at her, indicating he had understood before she explained, thank you very much.  
  
"Last year, when Madame Maxime and some other students of our school left for the Triwizard Tournament, we managed to keep in contact. That's how we learned everything, like Harry joining the three other contestants, and Fleur being chosen."  
  
"You knew Fleur Delacour?" Ron asked, blushing.  
  
"Of course. There are a lot less wizards in our school so we know everybody. I also took dancing classes with Fleur, so yeah, you could say I know her."  
  
"So what happened next?" Ginny asked, noticing the look of awe on Ron's face and Hermione's evil glare at him.  
  
"Well, we saw everything that happened at your school. That's how we learned about Hermione and Krum," Jawhara explained, beaming at Ron whose ears turned white with anger, "the last task, and Cedric Diggory's death. That's also how we learned that Voldemort came back."  
  
"Don't- mention- his- name!" Ron hissed.  
  
"Look, I'm really sorry for your delicate ears, Ron, but I will not fear the name of the asshole who killed my father!" Jawhara answered him in a passionate and slightly disdainful tone.  
  
The redhead crossed his arms and looked in another direction.  
  
"My mom and I left Beauxbatons for the summer break. We kept moving from village to village, hoping that no one would find us if we moved a lot. That was great! I visited the chateaux de la Loire, the Mont Saint Michel and of course Paris. Finally, we were staying two weeks in a little island on the coast, near la Rochelle, when, at the end of the first week, we were attacked. I didn't know we were being followed. In fact, I doubt we were, it seems like they just found us."  
  
"Yes, and as the sun was setting, Death Eaters raided your house. You fled inside. You must have escaped just in time, because I heard the Avada Kedavra curse," Harry explained.  
  
"That's exactly it," Jawhara sighed. "And that's why we're here. We fled, again, and we figured that Hogwarts, where Voldemort's - it's just a name, Ron! - greatest enemies could protect us, would be the safest place."  
  
"Voldemort's greatest enemies?" Ginny wondered.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore and Harry, of course," Hermione said.  
  
"Wow," Ron said, dumbstruck. His eyes, wide with curiosity about Jahwara's tale, filled with compassion. "That sounds like a painful vacation."  
  
"You have no idea," Jawhara conceded. "But during the last weeks of vacation, I stayed at Hermione's house. She pretended that she knew me already, like we had been pen-pals for a long time, when she wrote you letters. Not that she didn't trust you, of course, but it seems that Dumbledore feared that some information about my location might be intercepted. My mom stayed at a friend's house, in London. Both of us arrived here."  
  
"Wait. How did you arrive here?" Ron asked.  
  
"By the Hogwarts Express, of course."  
  
"How come we didn't see you?" Ron wondered.  
  
"And where is your mother?" Ginny asked.  
  
"She's right there, sitting at the teachers' table," Harry answered. He was right: he had recognized her, she was indeed the woman from his dream.  
  
"Doesn't that explain everything?" Hermione impatiently asked.  
  
"Huh?" Ron looked completely lost.  
  
"I was with my mom in the teachers' compartment, that' s why you guys didn't see me. She's," Jawhara began. However, she didn't have time to continue, as Dumbledore hit his wand gently on the side of his cup. The hall was silent in seconds.  
  
"I can see by your faces that you're all starving. Therefore I shall let you all suffer during a long and monotonous speech and then allow you to eat," the Headmaster announced, popping a sherbet lemon drop into his mouth.  
  
The first years were crestfallen and the shock among the older students was palpable. Even the teachers looked puzzled.  
  
"Don't look so disappointed, it was just my little idea of a joke," Dumbledore explained, while he clapped his hands and sat down, looking highly amused.  
  
The table was immediately covered with delicious dishes. Everywhere around the Great Hall, plates of roast beef, veal cutlets and fish appeared. Squares of butter finished melting in the mashed potato servings; the smell of beef stew spread through the air; pumpkin and tomato pies, yellow squash and leek soups held color contests; pasta and rice laid in huge bowls, surrounded by multiple sauces. Harry's empty stomach assured him he had never needed such a lavish display of food as right this minute. Ron's eyes lit up at the sight of the braised chicken and his hungry look was almost pitiful.  
  
"What kind of joke was that? That was just cruel! I'm famished!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
The students literally threw themselves on the various cooked meats and vegetables. Gryffindor boys, especially, seemed famished, and the girls watched as Harry and Ron gluttonously engulfed incredible portions of roast beef. Hermione threw Ginny a horrified look.  
  
"Don't worry, they're teenage boys: they have to grow!" Ginny explained, laughing.  
  
"I imagine you're used to this display of hunger, since you have so many brothers," Jawhara said flicking off the bits of food that were flying everywhere as a result of their feral feeding.  
  
"Oh yeah, definitely! And Ron isn't the worst. Just take a look at Fred," the youngest Weasley answered.  
  
He was serving himself a fourth portion of grilled chicken with mashed potatoes. He consumed it at a surprising speed with a surprising savagery. Hermione was utterly shocked and surprised that she hadn't noticed his bestiality before.  
  
"So, tell me, Jawhara," Ginny began, "you didn't answer when I asked you how you knew Bill. Where did you meet him?"  
  
"Supposedly, your brother works at the Gringotts' Bank in Egypt, right?" Jawhara asked.  
  
"What do you mean, 'supposedly'?" Ginny said. She frowned quizzically and tried to understand what the other girl meant.  
  
"He doesn't," Jawhara said simply.  
  
"Whaaah?" Ron asked, his mouth full and his eyes wide open with surprise.  
  
"Close your mouth, will you? It's disgusting. I said that your brother Bill doesn't work at Gringotts' bank. He works in Egypt, sure, but he took care of our security -my mother's and mine, I mean. Because the Death Eater attack we were involved in this summer wasn't the first one. I don't know why, but they keep trying to get us. I guess it's because my dad used to be an Auror, but I can't figure out why they still want to kill us now that they've succeeded in killing him." Jawhara's voice dropped.  
  
"How long has it been?" Ginny asked softly.  
  
"Three years. A pack of Death Eaters assailed him in the streets of Cairo, after dark. He didn't notice them, as hooded figures aren't uncommon in Egypt and Death Eaters are. Besides, my dad wasn't really an Auror anymore. There wasn't much use for him after Voldemort -calm down, you guys- fell, especially since he wasn't in the country most affected by Death Eaters."  
  
"I thought Aurors depended solely of the Ministry of Magic," Harry said.  
  
"In the beginning of the war, they did," Hermione said in her know-it-all voice. "When slaughters broke out all over Europe, the ministries of various countries formed some sort of higher authority to fight against He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Dumbledore was in it. It doesn't say anywhere why, but they called this association the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe they believed in the bird's power and capacity to never give up. I really don't know. Anyway, it regrouped Aurors and trained units from other countries. Soon enough, trained wizards depending on the Order of the Phoenix were called Aurors. Those fought up front with the forces of evil. In the 'back', there were the Crepuscules, those who tried to find a pattern in Death Eater attacks, locate the whereabouts of the Dark Lord, and so forth."  
  
"That's why my dad was called an Auror," Jawhara explained. "Mom worked with him for a few years. When they got married, and had me, she switched to Crepuscule in order to spend more time with me. They lived in France until you, Harry, managed to defeat Voldemort. People thought the war was over. The Death Eaters disbanded, their Lord disappeared, no one needed the Order of the Phoenix anymore. Mum, dad, and I moved to Egypt, were my mum was born. Dad took a job as librarian, and mom as Defense Against Dark Arts teacher in Ouadjet, which is also called the SEW -School of Egyptian Wizardry."  
  
"Your dad must have been so lucky! I would love to live in a universe filled with books," Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"Lucky? You're saying her dad was lucky?" Ron asked. Hermione, Harry and Ginny gave him a shocked look. "I mean, I er- I'm sorry," Ron muttered, realizing the error he'd just made.  
  
"It's okay, don't worry. The fact that he sold old magic books and parchments had nothing to do with his death. I guess he helped capture too many Death Eaters for them to let him get away with it, even with Voldemort dead," Jawhara finished, sensing the shudder that passed through her friends' spines.  
  
"Look, er, people might wonder what we're up to if we keep bringing up his name, so maybe we should-" Hermione started to whisper.  
  
"Who's name?" Harry asked.  
  
"You Know Who's!" Ginny hissed.  
  
"Well, no, I don't know whose, or else I wouldn't be asking," Harry defended himself.  
  
Hermione threw him an exasperated look and continued, "Yeah, well, maybe we can continue this later? In the Gryffindor common room, for example? I don't want people," Hermione said, throwing Lavender and Parvati a look which indicated there was no point in pretending they hadn't eavesdropped, "knowing everything about your life, Jawhara. And especially not," she added, whispering even more, "that you're the daughter of two Aurors. Might get you in trouble, especially with students from a particular house."  
  
Ron glared at the Slytherin table where its occupants were enjoying dinner. Draco Malfoy, Blaise sitting at his right, was being fed by Pansy Parkinson. Another girl held his cup. Sitting all around him were Slytherin girls, most of them pretty but a bit on the whorish side, who fawned over him like concubines in a harem. Draco noticed the Gryffindor group staring evilly at him and he held his cup to them, snickering.  
  
"Right," Ron muttered as he averted his eye from the blond Slytherin. "Let's get back to something healthy," he added, grasping his plate in one hand and a piece of cake in the other.  
  
"I'm not sure if that's healthier," Ginny muttered as Harry imitated Ron.  
  
The three girls took some fruit salad and thin portions of cake, all the while eyeing reproachfully the boys who ate like pigs. Finally, Dumbledore got up once more. Some students were eyeing him with a hint of distrust after his previous joke.  
  
"I presume you have all eaten to your stomach's content? If not, excuse me while I make a little announcement. Afterwards, you shall be free to eat once more."  
  
"All right!" screamed Fred.  
  
Dumbledore acknowledged him with an amused nod and continued, "To all first years, I must tell you that names are a very convenient way to remember things and that means that indeed, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that in his office is a list of all other forbidden things. I believe there are new additions to this list, and quite a few of them have recently been invented by two students in our midst." He was interrupted by loud cheering coming from the Gryffindor table and Fred and George Weasley, who had gotten up on the table to bow, were hauled down by McGonagall.  
  
"Yes, yes, congratulations. Now, I'm afraid I will have to tackle a much darker subject. As you know, last year a student, Cedric Diggory, was killed. By Voldemort." Gasps erupted all around the room and Harry felt his scar prickle, and his memories and nightmares come rushing back like a strong wind.  
  
"I don't believe in lying to you to protect you, and I trust that you are old and mature enough to deal with the truth. Voldemort has come back. Harry Potter was there to witness it, and he returned, risking his own life to bring Cedric's lifeless body to his parents. It was not a pleasant ordeal for him, so I must ask you not to bother him with it. Realize that Voldemort has come back, and that we must be strong and united, to defeat him again. Dark times call for responsible behaviors, therefore all foolish and dangerous acts will be sanctioned severely."  
  
He cast a pointed look at Harry, Hermione and Ron. "I made that joke earlier - it was very bad, I'll admit it - to show you that even in times of evil and hate, it is better to smile than to despair. So joke around, laugh, be happy! Don't let Voldemort ruin your adolescence."  
  
"Now, on to happier things. First of all, I would like you to meet your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Mrs. Beaupré previously taught at Beauxbatons, so I daresay you will all make an effort to make her feel as welcome as she was over there."  
  
Jawhara's mom got up to a quite enthusiastic applause, which grew louder and was punctuated with catcalls as the boys got a closer look at her. She waved at them and looked at her daughter for a fleeting instant, and then sat down again.  
  
"I am sure you have all noticed that your Care of Magical Creatures professor is missing. He has indeed taken a sabbatical leave for an indeterminate period of time. Replacing him - and I'm sure some of you already know this person -" Dumbledore turned to Bill Weasley, and at this point all the other Weasleys howled in recognition and in encouragement - especially Fred and George -  
  
"Mr. Charlie Weasley!"  
  
All the students clapped once again, and this time it was the girls' turns to throw catcalls when they got a closer look at him.  
  
The applause died down, and the Headmaster continued, "I have one last announcement to make, and I'm sure this will excite you as much as it did me. In light of Voldemort's rebirth, and in order to strengthen the bonds uniting the three best European schools, Mme Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Mr. Rebavnoff, the new Headmaster of Durmstrang and myself, have decided to establish inter-school classes. Supervising this event, is yet another Weasley, Mr. Bill Weasley! He is not here at the moment, but will join us in the next few days."  
  
The Weasleys were dumbfounded. This was definitely news to them.  
  
"That's what he meant!" Ginny shouted, jerking Fred, George and Ron out of their stupor. Then followed a series of exclamations, "I can't believe he didn't tell us!" "All summer!" "Supervisor!" "Hinting like a maniac..."  
  
"Umm, guys, everyone's looking at you," interrupted Harry. Dumbledore had stopped talking and indeed, everyone was taking a peek, amused, at the family scene.  
  
"Yeah and it certainly isn't because of Ron's superb looks," said Fred, making Ron turn pink from embarrassment and try to duck under the table.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As I was saying, these classes are not compulsory; only those who wish to join, and feel that they can deal with the responsibility of the additional workload it brings, may do so. They will only be available to fourth years and higher, and will deal with Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. Therefore they will be taught by our lovely Mrs. Beaupré and Mr. Bill Weasley, as well as teachers from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, should many students decide to join. Posters will be put up in your common rooms, to allow you to sign up. They have been charmed so that no students below fourth year may apply, and you also can't sign someone else's name, even if you have their permission. That person will have to make the effort of signing up himself or herself. Well, I think that's about it for the moment. Prefects will lead the students to their dormitories. Get a good night's sleep so your brain is in perfect condition for tomorrow's classes, which I'm sure you all await eagerly since last term ended."  
  
A few groans were heard throughout the Great Hall, except near the Ravenclaw table, where they all looked as if this were perfectly true. And of course, three people from the Gryffindor table looked like this too: Hermione, Jawhara and Harry. Hermione was impatient to learn new things, Jawhara had waited all summer to see the great and safe Hogwarts, and Harry was very glad to be home.  
  
"Harry, we have to help the first years get to Gryffindor tower. Nooo, you don't need a sixth piece of the raspberry tart. Come on, let's go. Ginny, can you show Jawhara how to get to the dorms and everything? I really wish I could do it, but with my prefect responsibilities," Hermione said.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, we know," Ron said. "We understand that you are overwhelmed by the load of work," he continued, imitating a dying tragedian, "but my poor, frail little sister will take care of this perfectly. Won't you Gin?"  
  
"Sure, don't worry," Ginny answered Hermione. "Oh, and Ron?"  
  
"Muh?" was Ron's response as his mouth was once again filled by something that had been Harry's raspberry tart.  
  
"Shut up," Ginny told her brother. She took Jawhara by the arm and led her toward the corridor.  
  
They passed the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, earning superior looks from the first and genuine smiles from the second. As both girls strode past the Slytherin table, though, they earned positively evil and jealous glares from the girls and interested glances from most boys -except for Crabbe and Goyle, of course, whose interested glances never departed from food. Draco had, at that moment, decided to raise his eyes from Pansy's plunging corsage to take a peak in Mandy's. He recognized the Weasley girl, and made a mental note that she had... grown. He then observed the girl who was walking with her, the girl that had just been sorted in Gryffindor. Draco was positive he had never seen her, and yet something in her seemed so familiar, so appealing that it was almost intimate.  
  
The fair-haired Slytherin was searching very hard in his memory to find where he had met her when he noticed Jawhara was looking at him. He smiled charmingly. How surprised he was to see the wave of horror that crashed in her black eyes, and even more surprised to see her fearful look replaced by a positively hateful gaze. He frowned inquisitively, silently urging the mysterious Gryffindor to explain the reason of her hate. But Jawhara just gave him a look loaded with loathing and disdain, and left the hall, royally ignoring him.  
  
Draco was furious. Sure, it was not uncommon at all for Gryffindors to hate Slytherins, but he didn't even know the blasted girl! Plus she was quite fair, and seemed smarter than the other bunch of Gryffindors like Longbottom or Creevey, so what the bloody hell was she doing with those nitwits? And how dare she ignore him, Draco Malfoy? He would find out about her, and make her pay. 


End file.
